Methodologies
by hollysarena
Summary: Lily J. Evans had rules - lots of rules - and she was the sort of person who would very rarely break them. James Potter, however, did not have much respect for rules at all. In 1976, Lily would find herself disregarding all but five of her rules, and in 1976, James would find himself, more often than not, following them.
1. Bitter and Melancholic

**Hi everyone! Once again (I say this every time I start writing a new fic), I'm going to attempt to actually finish this one. This is going to very similar to The Art of Timing except... not. I don't know - maybe I'll pick that back up, but this is kind of going to stand in place as a sort of reboot, I suppose. That being said, I would love, love, _love_ feedback on this - which will totally motivate me to keep writing - even the bad stuff! **

**Disclaimer:** **If I had written Harry Potter, I'd have already given you a seven book Marauders saga by now, but sadly, I did not.**

 **EDIT 17/08/16:** _I have re-uploaded this with clarification in the prefect badge scene. I had assumed - in this narrative - that the prefect choosing works on a yearly basis. For example, Lily had been a prefect in Fifth Year but Snape had not been. This is to allow for room for students not having to commit to the title for an entire 3 years._

 **Summary:** Lily J. Evans had rules - _lots_ of rules - and she was the sort of person who would very rarely break them. James Potter, however, did not have much respect for rules at all. In 1976, Lily would find herself breaking all but five of her rules, and in 1976, James would find himself, more often than not, following them. And even though these two instances had everything to do with one another - neither of them would admit that. At least, not quite yet.

* * *

(Bitter and Melancholic)

Lily J. Evans, of Gryffindor House, Hogwarts, was proud to say that she was perfectly systematic, thank you very much. You see, Lily liked rules and Lily liked categories. Lily liked boxes in which she could keep things: books, trinkets, her feelings. To Lily, everything belonged somewhere and everything had a home.

It should be made clear that James Potter, also of Gryffindor House, Hogwarts, was proud of the fact (or so it seemed) that every inch of his life balanced on the verge between recklessness and chaos. James liked trouble and James liked adventure. From the toes of his scuffed dragon skin boots to the tips of his unruly hair, James breathed disorder. But he, being precisely seventy-seven point six miles away in Eastbourne, was not someone Lily made the effort to think about often.

(Though he would be soon enough).

It was the middle of July in 1976 and it was a late Tuesday afternoon. Tuesdays in Cokeworth were rarely remarkable, but on this particular Tuesday, Lily found herself clad in a cropped t-shirt and shorts, enjoying the first sunny day of the year. She was stretched out on a tatty, faded outdoor lounger, a dog-eared novel in her hand and her vibrant red hair tied messily in a top-knot. Like all British families on the first warm day of the year, Lily's neighbours battled with their barbecues as the smell of lighter fluid began to waft through the air. Soon, it would be replaced with the smell of overcooked sausages and smoke.

Lily had made an earlier point to ignore the existence of her own family's barbecue, tucked away in the garden shed.

This was the first summer in a while that Lily had spent at her home in Cokeworth with her muggle mother Eileen and her sister Petunia. Since she was thirteen, she had alternated summers between her friend Ambria's home in Brighton or Marlene's London townhouse. This was partially to do with the fact that her mother and father were often on holiday themselves, but mostly to do with the fact that she was avoiding Petunia.

She did a lot of that these days.

This summer was different though. She needed to be at home. Even when the hallways felt devastatingly empty and home no longer felt like home, she stayed because her mother couldn't spend it alone. And, in all honesty, neither could Lily. It was because of this that Lily found herself reading Tess of the d'Urbervilles for the sixth time while her usual companions spent their July in the north of France.

A radio on a small glass table next to Lily crackled to a new song as she turned a page. Margot Mewlie's sugary voice sang above a whimsical pop beat, one of the newest additions to the Wizarding Wireless Network's line up. It was a strange mix of comforting and unease; the small piece of her Wizarding world seemed to fit too well in her mundane garden.

That feeling didn't last long, however.

"Lily!"

Petunia Evans had been gifted at birth with sharp ears and an even sharper tongue. She hissed Lily's name across the lawn from the backdoor of the house before hurriedly making her way towards her younger sister. Lily bit back a sigh. The bright sky may as well have darkened with clouds as her contentedness dissipated.

"What on earth do you think you're doing?" Petunia continued, lowering her voice as much as possible while still retaining her shriek. She gestured towards the radio with wild hands, but her long neck craned over the fence. "Turn that off. What are the neighbours going to say about that horrid sound!"

Lily wanted to point out that not all of their neighbours were as inclined to snoop on one another as Petunia was, but she decided against it. Instead she replied, "It's music, Petunia. It's hardly satanic chanting."

"It might as well be!" Her shriek had now shrivelled into a harsh whisper and her narrow eyes flicked to Lily. Seemingly deeming Lily too slow in her actions, Petunia turned to deal with the radio herself. Twisting the dials erratically, her attempt seemed to fail. The mixture of music and static only grew louder. "Oh, what a ridiculous piece of-"

"Here, let me." Lily's voice was the softest it had been all holiday, as she gently put a hand on Petunia's wrist to stop her frantic fiddling. Petunia drew back sharply as if she been pinched and her lips pulled into a displeased line. Seeming as if she had not noticed this reaction, Lily placed her book down and silenced the radio with the flick of a small knob on the side.

Once the music had stopped, a tense quiet fell between the sisters. Lily was sat with her bare legs off of the side of the lounger and Petunia stood across from her, not sure where to look.

Lily looked up at Petunia. Sometimes she found that when she looked very closely, past the consistent looks of disdain and the pursed lips, she could still see parts of a younger Petunia - a nicer Petunia. The kind of Petunia that she had not spoken to since she was really only a child. Sometimes, when she looked at Petunia very closely, she wondered if Petunia ever looked back and, if she ever did, what she saw.

"You look nice," she offered, somewhat weaker than she had intended. Petunia did look especially nice. She was dressed in a blue capped sleeve summer dress with a pair of kitten heeled pumps, and her straw coloured hair was pulled back from her face in a simple chignon. It was an olive branch, and one that Lily was sure was going to fall flat.

Petunia sniffed, but looked surprised at her sister's compliment. "I have a date," she said shortly.

"With that Jason boy from Cheadle?"

Another sniff from Petunia, but this time it was full of contempt. "Goodness, no. I'm not wasting any more time on him."

This was surprising to Lily, considering the last time she had seen Petunia, Jason from Cheadle had been her sun and stars. In fact, Jason from Cheadle had been so important that when Petunia was told he was not invited to the funeral, she very nearly did not attend herself. Clearly her feelings had changed on the matter.

Perhaps he had made some faux pas in public that made it unbearable to be seen with him. Petunia would not put up with any form of humiliation, so he would have soon gotten the chop if that was the case. Or maybe he simply wasn't living up to Petunia's ambitious ideals, which is what Lily diplomatically called Petunia's tendency to go after men with strong career prospects. What Petunia said next confirmed the latter.

"No," Petunia continued, a small, smug smile pulling at her lips. "Tonight I'm going to the Duck and Hound with Vernon Dursley." When Lily didn't react to Petunia's prominent enunciation of her date's name, she rolled her eyes and continued, "He's a junior executive at a firm in London and he's quite marvelous."

'Marvelous' in Petunia's mind was almost always synonymous to 'unbearingly dull' in Lily's. Still, she could see that Petunia was excited under her smug expression and probably rather anxious. Where Petunia lacked tolerance, she made for it with a tendency to overthink.

"How did you meet him?" This conversation was currently breaking the record for the longest conversation held between the sisters since Lily was eleven, and some part of Lily did not want it to stop so quickly.

"When I was working at the tearoom," said Petunia. She picked up an invisible piece of fluff from the sleeve of her dress. "He came in with his senior manager and his wife for lunch last Thursday. He complimented my handling of the china, which was kind of him."

Lily made a noncommittal sound. "Sounds charming," she said.

"Yes, well, he is," Petunia went on, sort of shrugging a little uncomfortably. "I'm not sure what sort of boys you're used to hanging about with, especially if they're, you know - your type."

This was the part of their conversation where it usually began to go downhill. The teeth in the back of Lily's mouth ground together slightly at Petunia's tone, as if wizards were some kind of perverted criminals. It was the part of the conversation where Lily would usually say again and again in her head, that her sister's disgust and horrible behaviour was rooted in a fear of the unknown. This was where the fighting would usually begin.

"I'm sure my type are just as well mannered as your Vernon," Lily replied.

"That's a shame," said Petunia, though she made it quite clear she did not think that was the case. "Anyway," she continued, looking at her watch, "Vernon will be here to pick me up any minute and I'd appreciate it if you just kept out of the way."

Keeping out of the way was something Lily had grown accustomed to over the past five years and it no longer bothered her in the same way it used to. Still, she didn't think that familiar dig in between her ribs would ever go away when her sister dismissed her like that. Lily sometimes wondered if she was just the sort of person who would always love the people who were the cruelest to her. Like it was some masochistic punishment for being so completely obsessed with being in control of every other aspect of her life.

After a moment, Lily replied, "Sure. I'll just be out here, minding my own business." She pulled her legs back up onto the lounger and returned to her novel. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Petunia open her mouth to say something more but then change her mind. She turned, not without her signature sniff, and proceeded back towards the house.

An unpleasant feeling settled on Lily's chest like it often did when she returned home to Cokeworth. It was the feeling that she was slowly becoming less and less a part of her old Muggle world, and the fact that she wasn't terribly concerned about that worried her. She missed Hogwarts more and more with each passing visit, and with each visit she felt a part of Old Lily fade. She was bitter and melancholic and nostalgic, and those three emotions were never a pleasant mix.

She had made a rule once upon a time that she would be the bigger person in her and Petunia's petty feud, which is why she bit her tongue and suppressed her feelings. Lily followed her rules to the nth degree; she had rules about following her rules. But, in a moment of possible madness, stifled by a mixture of bitterness, melancholy and nostalgia, Lily turned her head to see that Petunia had not quite reached the house.

Just as her sister stepped to the door, but not out of earshot, Lily reached across, flicked on her radio and blared the sound of the Wizarding Wireless Network loudly.

* * *

Jim Evans' death had come as a surprise when in actuality they should have seen it coming. It was medically impossible for a man to abuse his body with that much alcohol and recreational drugs as a young adult and have him avoid all consequences as a grown man. Jim Evans had been a musician - Lily had a rule about musicians - and he had been a good one. From being nineteen years old, his weekdays were filled with sleep and his weekends with frenzy. Towards the end, he believed he was a young spirit trapped in an unfit body, and sometimes, Lily thought that too. He loved his music, but he loved his girls more.

At the age of nineteen, in a drunken stupor, he met a young waitress in a cafe who would serve him nothing but tea until his words weren't slurred. He sat there for hours in the early morning of a Sunday and drank tea and fell in love. Well, at least that's how he used to tell the story - Lily thought there was probably more to it than that.

He gave the life of carousing up and in return, found himself a loving wife, a warm home and two baby girls he named after flowers.

"The sort of names people write songs about," he had once said. Lily wasn't sure if that was true.

Lily sat on the floor of the spare bedroom, surrounded with cardboard boxes. In them were numerous artefacts that had belonged to her father - vinyl collections, a guitar which strings Petunia had once broken when she was eight, frame memorabilia. It had been months since her father's funeral but parts of him were still strewn about the house, as if he refused to let them forget about him.

Despite his ingrained lack of routine and Lily's stubborn need for structure, Lily was the closest of the Evans sisters to their father. While he looked like Petunia with his soft, blonde hair and blue eyes, he matched Lily in being headstrong and tenacious. He often joked that Lily got her red hair from him and his brutish Scottish heritage (though his ancestors had not lived in Scotland for at least a couple of centuries). He was trouble, but he was a loveable trouble, and Lily couldn't resist. He could make her angry, make her cry and make her laugh all in a matter of minutes, and she loved him afterwards all the same.

She fiddled with a photograph, waving it gently between two fingers. It was a little faded from exposure to the sun but it was still clear. Petunia must have been about eight years old, her blonde hair pulled into symmetrical braids and wearing a baby pink corduroy pinafore. Her father grinned as he lifted her up onto one shoulder while Petunia looked as if she was squealing. Lily peeked out from between his slightly spread legs - she was five, nearly six - and smiled sheepishly at who she supposed was her mother behind the camera.

That had been taken on their trip to Cornwall one Christmas, back when everyone was happy and her family felt whole.

"Do you think I should take these to the charity shop?"

Eileen Evans held up a pile of music magazines, their pages bent and front covers faded. Where Jim looked like Petunia, Eileen was much similar in looks to her youngest daughter. She had chestnut brown curls, cut short to her chin, and bottle green eyes that she had passed on to Lily. She was on the taller side of women her age and was slender. Her chunky black glasses perched on the very tip of her nose as she looked down at Lily in question.

Lily shook her head. "Not worth it, Mum. Those can probably go into the 'bin' box." She gestured to one of four cardboard boxes that were slowly being filled, labelled 'bin', 'charity shop', 'sell' and 'keep' respectively. She noted as she did, how little the 'bin' box had in it compared to the 'keep'. This was part of the reason Lily felt the need to stay all summer, otherwise her mum would hoard her father's belongings for the next twenty years.

"But," her mother began to counter, her fingers stroking the cover of the top magazine almost lovingly, "someone might really enjoy these."

"Those magazines are from twenty years ago," Lily said, standing up to take them from Eileen's arms, "I'm sure most people have moved on from Perry Como." She promptly dropped them into the 'bin' box.

Eileen let out a weary sigh. "You know, this is making me feel older than I want to be." She sat heavily onto the side of the bed in the corner and rubbed her forehead. "When did I become old enough to have two almost adult daughters? And have my favourite music become irrelevant? And…"

She left it there, but Lily knew the following question. When did I become old enough to be a widow? It had broken her heart when her dad had died, but it was breaking daily watching her mum struggle to piece together what was left of herself. Lily couldn't imagine what it must have been like to love someone so much that they became a part of your identity, and what it must feel like to lose that.

(Lily made a rule never to let herself become a half of someone when she was in love.)

"Don't be silly," Lily tutted after a moment, dropping to sit next to Eileen. She took her mother's slender hand in her own and gave it a squeeze. "You've still got years in you." Lily grinned and leaned into her mother, putting on a gossip voice akin to Petunia's, "I heard all the ladies in Book Club are jealous because they've started getting smile lines and you haven't."

Eileen gave a soft laugh. "Oh, stop it." She reached up and smoothed a stray red hair on top of Lily's head. "I've missed you, you know."

Lily's heart twinged a familiar twinge. She forced her lips into a small smile. "I write you every week, Mum."

"Yes, but it's not the same, is it?" she said. And it wasn't, but Lily couldn't think about that anymore.

Instead, she focused on her mum. Eileen was right; she was aging and she had changed from the image Lily had of her in her head. Her dark hair was lined with delicate strands of silver and while the ladies of Book Club were justified in their jealousy of her lack of smile lines, small crevices had begun to appear by the corners of her eyes. Eileen radiated the same soft sadness that Lily felt tug in her chest each morning and seeing it in her mother only made that feeling stronger.

She gave her mother a pat on the knee. "Shall I make us some tea? And by the time I get back, I expect that 'bin' box to be filled." Gesturing pointedly at the said box again, Lily pushed herself up from the bed and made her way to the kitchen.

The Evans' home wasn't particularly lavish but it was comfortable to say the least. With four bedrooms and two bathrooms, Lily had been made very aware as a child that she was lucky. Her mother had graduated from the local university with a degree in psychology before she was born, and Jim Evans had given up his musical career for a life of banking. Her parents had created a future for herself and Petunia, and for that she was grateful, yet it was disconcerting that she may very well have little to do with this Muggle future at all.

As she walked through to the kitchen, she noted how different it was after renovations she had not been present for. She didn't recognize the doorknobs on the kitchen cupboards or the tiles beneath her feet, but it still had a lingering sense of home.

She put the kettle on the stove to heat and turned to the pile of mail on the counter. Flicking through it, she came across an envelope addressed to her and stamped from France. On the front, there was a small doodle of the Eiffel Tower in the corner. She slipped it into her jeans pocket, saving it for later. It was bound to be from Marlene and Ambria, confirming the details of their Diagon Alley trip which would be in a week. Lily could barely believe the summer had gone so quickly even though she had spent it in the most mundane fashion, sorting her father's belongings and re-reading classic literature. There was a second envelope that also adorned her name; written in emerald green with a wax seal, the second letter could only have been one thing. She tucked that in her jeans alongside the other, and looked out into the garden as she waited for the tea.

She must have been staring out of the window for some time as her thoughts were interrupted by the squealing kettle. Lily quickly pulled it from the heat, poured herself and Eileen a mug each, and made her way back upstairs to continue the lengthy process of clearing the guest bedroom.

* * *

"If you could be anywhere right now, where you like to be?"

James Potter ran his finger along the edge of his teacup, his brow furrowed as he looked out onto the dock. Smaller yachts dotted the wall of the marina, shadowed by a single large sailing boat with mahogany colour masts and a blue painted hull.

Sitting across from him in the small cafe in Saint Malo was a local French girl. She was rather pretty - they usually were when in James' company - with straight dark hair that fell to her shoulder blades. She watched him expectantly for a response to her question.

"Peru," said James after a moment.

The girl raised her eyebrows over the coffee cup. "Peru? Why so far away?"

"I dunno," the boy shrugged. "I suppose I quite fancy myself as a Peruvian flute player."

For this, he earned a laugh. It was a pleasant sound; guttural but melodic, and not too sweet. "Fantastic. Your turn," she said.

Why James was sitting on the waterfront of Saint Malo with a local girl playing twenty questions was somewhat beyond him. It was these sorts of interactions that he ended up in when he had too much time on his hands and not enough entertainment. When Emilé had sat next to him on a bench down the road only twenty minutes prior, he had decided she was engaging enough to preoccupy him for the rest of the afternoon.

"Uh," he began, scratching his chin. "If you could be any animal, what would you be?"

"Oh, that's easy!" she said. Her accent pressed on the end of her sentence. "I would some kind of bird. Maybe a dove. So beautiful, and to fly would be so incredible."

James thought that maybe with her stark hair and loud voice she would suit being a raven much more than a gentle dove. He didn't say that though, and simply took a sip of his milky tea.

He missed England. France was nice enough, he supposed, and Saint Malo was brilliant to look at. The stone walled buildings and canals were plucked straight from the Middle Ages and James could practically hear the charging footsteps of Muggle soldiers marching down the waterfront. It had become a central part of Wizarding France a century or so before, but was still an attractive tourist hotspot for the Muggles. With enough glamour charms, the eccentric lanes of Wizarding shops was easily concealed, leaving the visitors none the wiser. But Saint Malo did not have his three missing counterparts, all of whom were suffering their only lonely summers somewhere else.

He had heard from Peter in a very brief letter (Wormtail was not one for words). His mother was fine, he was fine, and he'd had a really (and he said really) good steak and ale pie for tea. Remus had sent him a few letters but he was having a bit of a quiet patch, probably feeling under the weather due to the time of the month. James always felt uncomfortable at the thought of Remus dealing with that alone.

He'd actually spent quite a lot of time with Sirius earlier in the summer, but he'd been recalled to Grimmauld Place by his mother for his cousin's wedding. Narcissa Black, in traditional pureblood family style, was marrying into the Malfoys, simultaneously pleasing the majority of her relatives but losing her position of Sirius' second favourite cousin. James knew Sirius had been furious about and not once, but twice, had made it very clear to Narcissa that he considered her a cop out but his words had fallen on deaf ears. Lucius Malfoy had been a prefect two years above the boys in school and was - in James and Sirius' opinion - a complete and utter tosspot.

It was a little worrying to James that he had not received a single letter from Sirius since he had returned home, but it wasn't surprising. His mother was known for making Sirius' life miserable and somehow blocking his correspondence with James would be in her arsenal.

"James?" He had been looking out to sea and clearly not listening to Emilé's avid description of what it would be like to be a bird. James looked up at her, grinned sheepishly and ran his hand through his hair.

"Sorry," he said, though he wasn't very. "Long morning."

Emilé simply smiled at him, understanding. "That's quite alright. I just asked if you'd like to take a walk along the front. We could go visit Plumescriptes - have you been before?"

He had, but he nodded nonetheless. "Sounds great."

The pair began to walk along the northern wall of the town, tucking their light jackets around their chests. Even though it was mid-July, brisk gusts of wind came rolling in from the sea raising the hairs on their skin. The road along the wall was relatively empty. A few tourists milled around taking photographs of the stone features, and a mother walked a stroller along as her toddler stumbled after her.

Emilé walked closely to James, her arm almost brushing his, and when she glanced at him sideways, he had a panicked moment in which he thought she might reach for his hand. While James thought she was lovely (in fact, she was quite lovely), he tucked his hands into his coat pockets and internally scolded himself as he did. You see, there was a common thought that James Potter might have been a ladies man, but in actuality he was rather prone to spending his evenings alone.

There was a reason for that, but that's a story for a later time.

His companion had clearly noticed his sudden need to warm his hand, and out the corner of his eye, he saw her mouth open to make a comment. Only, the voice that next filled his ears was not hers.

"Oi, Potter!"

James wheeled in around in surprise. The voice that had not been Emilé's belonged to a tall, blonde girl who was jogging merrily towards him. Trailing behind her rather airily was her friend, a petite, blue haired young woman.

James grinned and his mood improved instantaneously. "Alright, McKinnon?"

"Friends of yours?" Emilé asked curiously, and James noticed that she'd stepped away from him a little. He nodded as Marlene McKinnon's jog came to a halt. Next to Emilé, the difference between the two was very apparent. Marlene neared six foot, with honey coloured hair that was almost always thrown into a tight ponytail.

"What are you doing here?" James marvelled, grinning at cobalt-haired Ambria as she joined the group. The two girls were going into their sixth year at Hogwarts alongside James, and were also sorted into Gryffindor house. When he noticed that the usual third addition to their party was missing, he tried his hardest not to feel disappointed.

"Dad's here for some tribunal, so me and Ambria tagged along for the culture," said Marlene. She looked at Emilé and nodded in greeting. "Hello."

"Oh, Merlin, sorry - this is Emilé. I, uh - we just met actually."

Ambria gave a bright smile. "How wonderful. I love meeting the locals. I'm Ambria." She stuck out her hand rather forcefully towards Emilé.

Emilé took her hand rather weakly. "Nice to meet you."

"Are you here for long?" Marlene had turned back to James now, seemingly disinterested in introducing herself. "We've done the walk along the front about five times now and if I have to do it again, I might go off the end of it."

"'Til the end of the week," he replied, grinning at her exaggeration. "Not one for historical towns then, eh?"

Marlene rolled her eyes. "Not if I can help it. It's been alright though, I suppose. We've been here for four days now." An afterthought, "I could do with something to eat though."

"Oh, yes!" Ambria piped in. "I'm a bit famished. Do you know anywhere good?"

He did, but he didn't get a chance to give a suggestion.

"We were actually on our way to the bookstore," Emilé interrupted. The tone of her voice startled James slightly; it was more annoyed than he had expected.

Her annoyance didn't seem to register with Ambria who responded, "Oh lovely! We'll come with you." She looked at her friend who seemed less than enthused. "Food can wait for ten minutes, can't it, Mar?"

Marlene shrugged but exchanged a look with James. "I guess so. Is that alright with you?"

She was clearly concerned that Ambria was inviting herself along on James' date with Emilé, but James was welcoming of the company. The pair of them might have been the little bit of home that he needed.

"'Course not," he grinned. Emilé' may have grimaced beside him, but nobody else seemed to notice.

The four of them turned to continue on the path in which James and Emilé had previously been headed. James listened to Marlene and Ambria chat about their holidays: they'd visited an art gallery where Ambria mistakenly flirted with a Muggle and charmed her hair pink in front of him, Marlene had been following the European Women's Quidditch League religiously, and both of them had received their Hogwarts letters for the upcoming year.

There wasn't a single mention of Lily.

Now, this struck James as odd due to the fact that Lily was as much of a counterpart to Marlene and Ambria as he was to the rest of the Marauders. He knew this because, while he hated to even entertain the thought (much less actually admit to the fact), he had been harbouring some rather reckless feelings for the redheaded witch. He had been trying to forget about those for the most part, but he wasn't having very much luck.

James supposed it was hard to shake feelings that you had been harbouring since you were thirteen years old. They stuck with him like his old habits, like running his hand through his hair and doodling snitches in the margins of his school books.

After walking for a little while, they reached Plumescriptes, what could be called the French equivalent to Flourish and Blotts. Ambria stepped inside excitedly, followed by Marlene. James being the gentleman that he thought he was, stepped to hold the door open for Emilé. The gesture was not notably successful in cheering his new acquaintance's expression.

Plumescriptes was exactly the sort of shop you would expect in a town like Saint Malo. Tall, rosewood bookcases reached for the glass ceiling, and followed the curve of the walls the entirety of the way around the room. Smaller, more decorative cases stood in the middle as aisles, with creeping plant vines curling around the edges. The shop was quiet, with only a few patrons milling amongst the shelves, and the group kept their voices low as they wandered through.

"How'd you meet her again?" Marlene murmured into James' ear. Her blue eyes were trained on the back of Emilé's head as the dark-haired girl inspected a book.

Marlene McKinnon was the closest thing James could claim as a sister - though, they'd both balk at the sentiment if you said it aloud. They had been fast friends in their first year, making her his friend for as long as the Marauders. She was a wicked Beater and an asset to the Gryffindor Quidditch team, something vital to James as the captain.

James shrugged. "I was bored and she sat next to me on a bench. I asked her to tea."

"You were bored."

"Well, if you'd shown up earlier…"

He stifled a pained laugh as Marlene dug her elbow into his ribs. Neither Emilé nor Ambria seemed to be paying much attention to their antics and continued their browsing.

"Where's your usual shadows anyway?" Marlene asked as they paused in an aisle. "I thought you always spent the summer together."

"Not always." James chewed the inside of his lip. "Sirius is at his cousin's wedding -" (Marlene grimaced - she, too, disliked how Sirius' family worked) "- and Remus is spending some time with his mum. Peter's doing the same thing too, s'pose."

"And you're here in France… alone?"

"Not alone. My parents are here."

Marlene grinned a little. "Ah, the elusive Potter parents. How are old Fleamont and Euphemia doing?"

"Fine. They're delighting in some terribly boring theatre that I refused to attend."

"Which is why you are here, bored."

"I would've have been bored there too."

"Maybe not," Marlene contested, leaning back against the bookshelf. "You could have learned something. Gained some culture."

James shot Marlene a look at mock hurt. "I am thoroughly cultured, thank you very much."

"Yeah, like mould," she quipped in return.

This time it was James' turn to send Marlene a jab, albeit softer and less accurate as the blonde ducked out of his way. She simply grinned at him.

It was at this moment that James had two options. The first was to give into his childish whim and blatantly point out the absence of their usual comrade, therefore bringing up the conversation of Lily (which he was secretly desperate to discuss). The second was the reign in his feelings like an adult and move on to another subject. That would be the sensible thing to do.

But when had James Potter ever been sensible?

"What about you then?" he asked, digging the toe of his trainer into a scuff in the carpet. "Where's Evans? I thought you three were inseparable soul sisters."

Marlene made a face at the term 'soul sisters'. "She went home for the summer."

"She doesn't usually though, does she?"

A blonde eyebrow curved on Marlene's forehead. "Have you amounted to stalking now, Potter?"

James rolled his eyes, then raised his eyebrow back at her. "Don't be ridiculous." Marlene didn't look convinced. "I simply wanted to make the point that if she was here, you'd complete the set."

"What set?"

"Well, you know, you're in France… Red," he then gestured to Ambria's hair, "Blue… and white, sort of." He finally gestured to Marlene's own blonde hair. "All together you would have made up a French flag." Grinning, his expression implied that his joke was much funnier than it actually was.

Again, Marlene rolled her eyes but this time she fought back a grin. "Prat."

James left his Lily inquiries at that.

* * *

Dearest Lily,

Petunia sounds like a - forgive my French (get it? Because we're in France!) - complete bitch. Like, unnecessary amounts of Moody Cow Syndrome. From your stories, I'll never understand how the pair of you could possibly be related because you're a ball of sunshine (most of the time) and she sounds like a wet rag.

But anyway -

Saint Malo hasn't been quite as drab as I expected! Ambria is having a lovely time, she says. Well, actually she said to say she was having a splendid time but then asked me to lessen her enthusiasm in case you thought she wasn't missing you. She is, if you hadn't noticed, and she won't shut up about it.

You will never guess who is here though. Here Amby and I were, wandering along the waterfront (for the fifth time) minding our own business (because there's not much else to do here) when I spotted in front of me a beautiful sight! Actually, no, not beautiful, he would never let me live that down if he knew I'd referred to him as beautiful. But anyway, it was the back of James Potter's head!

And I know you're not his biggest fan at the moment, and that's okay, but I just thought - what are the chances? I mean, yes, Saint Malo is pretty popular at this time of year and they do some excellent brie at the Wizarding Agricultural Market (honestly, so good), but still - James Potter, who would have thought. And despite what he might say, I did save him from the clutches of a terrible date whether he thinks so or not.

I hope we're still on for next Wednesday for London. I have my eyes on a new pair of velvet lined robes because I think I've had mine since I was thirteen and the sleeves come up to my elbows. Amby also wants to get a new old because Fidget has lost the ability to fly in a straight line so she's leaving her at home this year. How is Claude, by the way? Hopefully adapting to Muggle life. Give him a scratch under the chin from me!

Remember - London on Wednesday. We can meet at the Leaky Cauldron at ten thirty and head through to Diagon Alley then. (Don't forget, says Ambria! As if I haven't reminded you enough).

We love you very much and miss you horribly!

Marlene (and Ambria).

P.S. We also hope you're feeling a bit better, lots of love to Mama Evans.

* * *

Lily tucked Marlene's letter neatly back into its envelope. She sat cross legged on top of the bed in her childhood bedroom. Horse posters still lined the walls from when she was ten and had an obsession with ponies, and in the corner sat an antique doll's house with one broken window.

She had another unopened letter in her hand, this one much bulkier. It was her Hogwarts letter for her sixth year and she was a little apprehensive to open it. Sure, it would be exactly like the previous five letters (except for perhaps the supplies list) (oh, and of course, the first one when she found out she was a witch), but she fought with the anxiety that, maybe, this year, she wouldn't have been chosen.

It was sort of a given that Lily wanted to be a prefect for a second year. She was above average in most of her classes, if not excellent, and she had a penchant for rules (which is sort of a characteristic one would like in a prefect). Sure, she wouldn't be devastated if she didn't get it - she had learned what being devastated really meant earlier that year - but she would have been disappointed not to have carried on with her title. It would have been nice for something to go her way for once.

With a small excited hold of her breath, she tore into the parchment envelopment and uncharacteristically emptied the contents onto the bed.

Sitting on top of her welcome letter and supplies list sat a very shiny, very golden badge.

* * *

Not so far away in Spinner's End, another prefect's badge had made its way into a Hogwarts envelope. Severus Snape sat at his wobbly dining room table and inspected the badge between his fingers. His first thought was predictable, and it was correct; Lily would be joining him in the prefect compartment of the train this year. That first thought both thrilled and concerned him. They hadn't had a proper conversation since the end of the exam period a couple of months before, and it had been an unpleasant one.

He'd sent her a letter but there was no response. Severus wasn't the sort of person to reach out a second time but the anxiety of the matter was eating him up inside. He had been fighting with the feelings he'd spent his first five years at Hogwarts pushed to the back his head; he was bitter at what he felt like was injustice. No matter how brightly he might have once shone in Lily's opinion, he was never going to be enough - he knew that. It was just that he struggled with the idea that it took him five years to realize the fact.

Closing his fist around the badge, he felt the pin dig slightly into his palm. The whole thing seemed like a poorly timed joke. _He_ hadn't been chosen for a prefect position in his Fifth Year - Daniel Rubio must have pulled out - and he couldn't quite understand why he'd been chosen now. In a matter of months, he had been initiated into two polarizing groups, with responsibilities that contradicted the very nature of each other, when all he had wanted in life was to be included, to be wanted. Now, he was torn between two sides, and the one he was most unsure of had the strongest appeal.

Maybe if the last conversation he'd had with Lily hadn't been so awful, the choice of his allegiance wouldn't have been so easy to make. But he could see her slipping away from him. Even if he could get her to forgive him, to move past a stupid utterance of a stupid word, he doubted she would ever smile at him like she used to. He wondered at what point did Lily stopped viewing him with reverence and instead with a disappointed contempt.

The phone on the wall in the kitchen rang, jolting him. It was an unusual sound that startled him often - despite growing up in a mixed household, he had forgotten what it was like to be around some Muggle artefacts.

He stood up and crossed the room to answer it.

"Snape household," he answered, his voice low and apathetic. The voice on the other end of the line crackled into his ear, his face paling considerably as it did. "Okay," he said in response. There was another beat in which the crackling continued. He nodded along, chewing the inside of his lip.

After a moment, he hung up. Turning towards the front door, he walked past his coat and his badge and his disregarded Hogwarts letter. He simply took his wand, shoved it into the back pocket of his jeans, and left.

* * *

 **Feedback is the fuel that keeps these cogs going! Leave a review and I will love you for all eternity.**


	2. Smoke and Suitcases

**Hello lovelies! Chapter two - Smoke and Suitcases - has arrived.**

 **Thank you to TrueHomiePiP, abuu, MsChanify, and the guest reviewers for your kind words and feedback! It meant a lot. Hopefully this chapter is as good as the last! **

**To any new readers: thank you for reading! Please leave your feedback at the end, it is always appreciated** 3

 **Summary:** Lily spends her first summer at home in a long time following her father's death. James is spending his in Saint Malo, France, and happens upon Ambria and Marlene in his trip. Everyone prepares for their sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

 **Disclaimer:** Not the ridiculously famous and ridiculously fabulous J.K. Rowling, sorry.

* * *

(Smoke and Suitcases)

James didn't know when he next expected to see Sirius, but he did know that it wasn't on his arrival home from France.

"Bloody hell, finally!"

It always surprised James a little how Sirius Black look so completely haggard sometimes, but still possess an air of eternal, rebellious youth. He found his friend sitting on the front porch steps of the Potter family home, his foot propped on a large trunk beneath him. Sirius' dark hair was matted in wild curls, as usual, and the dark circles beneath his eyes had grown considerably. Despite this, and his clearly three day old clothes, Sirius was grinning at him.

"A bloke could freeze to death sitting out here all day."

James raised a skeptical eyebrow. "In July? That's a bit dramatic."

"I'm a sensitive soul, me."

"We weren't expecting you, Sirius. How lovely." Euphemia Potter had been following her son up the path and was seemingly delighted at the sight of his friend.

Euphemia was a short woman, which was surprising given James' height, but she carried herself with grandeur. She had grey hair pulled tightly into a bun at the nape of her neck and was dressed in light salmon silk robes. Her eyes were hazel, just like James', and they were alight as she fussed over Sirius.

The recipient of said fussing looked up at her a little sheepishly. "Sorry I didn't let you know. Things were a bit… tense at home."

"How long have you been sitting out here?"

"Eh," Sirius scratched his head. "Only a few hours or so."

Tutting, Euphemia patted him on the shoulder. "Come on, get your trunk and come inside. We'll have the house elves fix us something to eat." She gestured to her son. "James dear, help your father with our luggage and get Whimsy to turn down the guest bedroom for Sirius."

After his mother had bustled her way into the house, James looked to Sirius and raised an eyebrow. "How was the wedding?"

Sirius' face darkened. "I'm not nearly drunk enough to begin with that tale, mate."

"That bad?"

" _Abysmal_." He pushed himself up off the staircase, and suddenly grinned. "Good to see you, though. How was France?"

James shrugged. "Probably not as eventful as whatever happened with you." From behind him, Fleamont, his father, called his name. "Ah, I better get to it. Don't want Mum biting my head off already. You know what room Whimsy will make up for you, just dump your stuff in there. I'll come find you in a minute."

With a salute from Sirius, James turned and went to meet his father at the bottom of the path.

* * *

Every Wednesday, Thursday and Friday afternoon, Petunia worked a six hour shift at a small cafe in London. The cafe - called The Lilac Tea Room - was a popular spot for the wives of highly paid business men, armed with credit cards and a week's worth of scandal and secrets to share. It was perfect for Petunia who not only aspired to be one day join the ranks of these ladies, but it was also useful for her to hear the ins and outs of London's business society. Plus, she lived for gossip.

What was not perfect for Petunia, however, was being held against her will in a car with her younger sister. Perhaps held against her will was a bit of an embellishment, but she certainly didn't appreciate being forced by her mother to drive Lily into London.

"Tuney, please," said Eileen. The older woman was on all fours on the kitchen floor, flustered. She had a wet rag in one hand and a scrubbing brush in the other as she cleaned the oven. "I'm terribly busy and it would be a huge help. I've got a lecture at eleven, lunch with Linda McKenzie at two, another…"

"It's honestly fine," Lily interrupted. There was nothing worse than her mother's failing attempts to rekindle their sisterly friendship. "I'll take the train."

Eileen huffed. "You will do nothing of the sort! Did you not hear about poor Mrs. Benzie's son down the road? He was mugged on the way to the train station and lost almost fifty pounds!" She shook her head in indignation. "No, Petunia, you'll take your sister on your way to work and that'll be the end of it."

And it had been the end of it, indeed.

Petunia drove an olive green Austin 1100, a car that was about ten years out of fashion. It was an easy motor to drive, however, and small, and Petunia was rather proud of it. It had cream leather interior seating and chrome plated finishings. Lily picked at a torn part of the leather in the passenger seat absentmindedly.

"Don't pick that," Petunia warned, flicking her eyes briefly to her sister's fidgeting fingers. They had been driving for about half an hour and those were the first words that had been said. Lily's fingers curled into her palm and she sat her fist in her lap. She muttered somewhat of an apology, and looked out of her window.

The drive from Cokeworth to London was a reasonably lengthy one, but it took them on a tour through the countryside and the small villages that dotted the distance in between. Petunia was used to the drive having done it every Wednesday morning and Friday evening for the past year (she often stayed with her friend Barb in the city overnight), but Lily still marveled in the delicate beauty of the little cottages that they passed.

After another few minutes (and therefore precisely thirty-six minutes of silence), Lily let out a quiet sigh and turned to her sister.

"How was your date?" she asked. There was a new voice Lily used whenever trying to interact with Petunia. It wasn't like the voice she used six years ago (the Loving voice), and it wasn't like the voice she used one year ago (the Betrayed voice). This voice (the Diplomat voice) was the sort of voice one might use on the phone to the dentist, or maybe to a very distant relative. It was quiet and unassuming and all in all, was good for nothing much but small talk.

Petunia stiffened for a moment, not unnoticed by Lily, but answered: "It was lovely, thank you." There was a pregnant paused before she added, "No thanks to your ridiculously loud radio nonsense."

"He wouldn't have known the difference," argued Lily, though Lily knew that yes, in fact, he probably would have noticed something strange about the news discussion of Pepper Up Potion benefits.

"Well, I for one will be glad when you're back at Hog… _your school_. It means I can bring Vernon home for dinner without the risk of you _exposing_ yourself."

Lily pressed her lips against a smile. The idea of her _exposing_ herself in front of Vernon conjured a rather amusing image in her head, one that Petunia probably wouldn't join her in laughing at. Petunia's ramblings on about her secret identity had gone from concerning to rather hilarious a long time ago. Besides, she was somewhat inclined to agree - Lily, too, would be glad when she had returned to school.

"What did you do then? What was he like?"

Her sister pursed her lips together in thought. "Well, he was charming, like I said before. We went for a drink and he paid for everything - as he really should have, but it was nice to know I didn't even have to offer to go dutch. He says he should be in the works for a promotion soon which is terribly exciting."

"Terribly," said Lily, nodding.

"All in all," Petunia continued, having not noticed Lily's rather apathetic nodding, "if all goes to plan, you might be hearing wedding bells come next year." This is where Lily's apathy ended and her eyebrows shot up into her hairline. "Oh, don't give me that look. I'm nineteen, nearly twenty. Mum and Dad were already halfway to married by my age."

Petunia's voice caught ever so slightly when she mentioned her father, but she pressed on. "Vernon is an especially good catch. If I don't lock him down soon, some other girl surely will."

Not sure whether or not the feminist movement had ever occurred to Petunia - or the fact that they were now living twenty years out of the 1950s - Lily simply cleared her throat and put her Diplomat voice back on. "Well, he sounds great."

"He is," Petunia agreed, although Lily was sure she would have insisted that regardless of Lily's opinion. There was another pause before she spoke again. "What about… you?"

This surprised Lily. The last time Petunia had taken an interest in her love life was when she seven years old and Ricky Michaels from Beasley Avenue tried to kiss her on the cheek. "What about me?" she asked.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "I haven't seen any of that boy around this summer. You know, the _odd_ one."

Lily did know, and she suddenly wished this conversation would cease altogether.

"Yeah, you're right. He hasn't been around."

"How come?"

"We grew apart, I suppose."

With a snort, Petunia said, "Grew apart? That boy followed you around like a lost puppy. You were probably his only friend. I highly doubt you just 'grew apart'."

Lily ignored the pull in her stomach. She would _not_ feel guilty about this. Sure, Severus did struggle to make friends but he clearly also struggled the keep them. Maybe there was a reason that she was his only friend - and it had everything to do with the fact that she was a naive pushover and, on more than one occasion, in complete denial.

"We had conflicting beliefs. It happens." Conflicting beliefs meaning he'd used a word that implied he believed her life was worth very little, and she was rather inclined to disagree.

"Mm," But Petunia clearly wasn't convinced. "I suppose it's a good thing. Nothing good has come out of Spinner's End in the past forty years."

Stiffening, Lily trained her focus onto something else other than her intense desire to defend Severus. It was a bad habit of hers that she had procured over the years and she was doing all she could do break it. It was a new rule of hers: no more standing up for Severus Snape. After all, it had hardly done her any favours last time.

She thought about the letter that she hadn't bothered opening. She wondered that if she had maybe she would have changed her mind. However, she'd already sworn never to defend him again and Lily hardly ever broke her own rules.

(Well, at least not yet, anyway.)

* * *

" _You've got to be bloody joking."_

This was the third time James had said those words, and for a third time, Sirius nodded gravely.

"Mad, isn't it?" the latter said, leaning back against the window with his legs out in front of him, ankles crossed. He had spent the best part of the last fifteen minutes recounting the events of the illustrious Malfoy and Black nuptials, which had evidently factored into the reason he was sitting there on James' bedroom windowsill. "It was meant to be a joke - a bloody funny one, at that - but she lost it, Prongs. I've never seen Walburga hit the roof like that before. She said, and I quote, that I holding any claim on the Black name was a _travesty_ and that she couldn't believe she'd spawned such a traitorous fool."

"Blimey, your own mother…"

"Only by blood," Sirius reminded bitterly.

"I've got to agree though, charming a raincloud to follow Malfoy wherever he went was an excellent idea."

"Wasn't it? You should see the pictures! Narcissa was _livid_ , of course - but to hell with her, she's the one that signed herself up for a lifetime of misery."

"How did they know it was you?" asked James.

"Well, s'pose the only Gryffindor at the party was bound to get blamed. It wasn't exactly the sort of Regulus would have come up with, was it?" Sirius tapped his head. "Doesn't have the wit about him."

"So, what now?" James pressed on. "Is that you gone for good?"

"For good. She's burned me off of the tapestry so I don't think I'll be thrown a welcoming party if I go back. If it was up to her, I'd have 'blood traitor' emblazoned across my forehead for the rest of my life."

James let a breath out between his teeth. "Shit."

Sirius simply nodded.

"Well, obviously you're staying here," James continued, matter of factly. "It's only a couple of weeks until we go back to school and Mum will be thrilled at having another mouth to feed."

His friend said his thanks, but added, "I'll sort myself somewhere else by Christmas."

"Oh, don't be a prat, Padfoot. I trust you living alone just about as much as I'd trust my own mother with an ironing charm - which you will know by the state of my second year Quidditch robes is _not at all_."

"What makes _you_ an authority on living alone? Last time I checked, you didn't even fold your own underwear."

"Exactly," James grinned, "but I'm not the one having mad ideas about finding my own place."

Sirius shrugged. "S'pose I needed to move out at some point."

"Yeah, but most people do that after school, not with two years to go."

"Like my mother said, I'm a vexatious and tiresome rule breaker."

"Vexatious?" With another grin, James shook his head and pointed an adamant finger towards Sirius. "You're not going anywhere, right? At least for now. We can reevaluate at Christmas."

"Alright, boss."

The pair of them continued to chat, discussing their summers - more of Sirius' family terrors and a rehash of James' summer in Saint Malo. It went on for an hour or so - Sirius family terrors were _excessive_ \- before it finally came to the topic of school.

"D'you get your letter then?" Sirius asked. James affirmed. "Moony got prefect again, you know."

"I know," said James, "what a swot. Do you reckon this will be the year he's going to start deducting points from us?"

"And risk us telling Patricia Prewett that he was the one who accidentally set her prized Herbology project on fire? Doubtful."

With a laugh, James agreed. "True. He's just as bad as the rest of us, even if he doesn't think so."

"Eh, bad is a relative term."

"I wonder who else got it," said James, though his statement was rather redundant. Of course he _knew_ who had continued in the female prefect role. With the third highest marks across their year group, it was a given.

Sirius rolled his eyes a bit. "Evans, but as if you didn't know that." With a skeptical look, "Your obsession didn't have a timely death over the summer then."

"It's not an obsession." James scowled.

He raised his hands in a lazy defense. "If you say so, mate. I thought that after that scene with Snivellus that might have been you finished with it all."

James had hoped that too. In fact, James was rather annoyed at the fact that being further down on the list of dateable people (by Lily's standards) than the Giant Squid hadn't put a damper on his feelings towards her. Surely sane people took a bloody hint.

Shrugging, James said, "I'm working on it." And he truly did think he was.

For the seventeenth time that year, Sirius told him, "She's bad for your spirit, you know."

James knew.

* * *

By the end of that car ride, Lily was grateful to find herself standing on the pavement down the road from the Leaky Cauldron. Petunia had refused to drop her outside the door, fearful of the fact someone might spot her. Why Petunia was worried about that, Lily didn't know. It's not as if any other Muggles were aware of the Leaky Cauldron's existence.

Nevertheless, she was happy to free from the tense presence of her sister and began to make her way towards the pub.

When she arrived, Lily was caught rather off guard. It seemed as if the pub was swarmed with patrons, with bodies pressed up against the windows. She managed to squeeze open the door, narrowly missing the back of some poor man who had managed to step out of the way. It was packed in a way she had never seen before.

Confusion buzzed through the air as the patrons muttered between themselves. It seemed that a large part of the Hogwarts student population and their respective families had chosen today to do their school supply shopping, and they were equally puzzled by the masses. Lily pressed herself up onto her toes, scanning the heads and shoulders of the group in an attempt to find her friends. With a brief look at her watch, she concluded it was twenty-eight minutes past ten - slightly early, but she was sure they would have arrived already.

She gently shouldered her way between the people, giving the occasional greeting and wave to some Hogwarts acquaintances. Julie Murray, a seventh-year Hufflepuff, reached out and stopped her in her path.

"Lily!" the older girl greeted, giving her a smile. "How was your summer? You're looking lovely, by the way." She gestured to the room. "This is madness, isn't it?"

"What's happened?" inquired Lily, raising her voice slightly to be heard over the bustling crowd.

Julie pointed vaguely towards the Diagon Alley entrance. "The brick wall is blocked! Nobody can get through, which is ridiculous on a day like today. You'd think the Ministry would have sorted something out by now - it's been almost forty minutes!"

"Do you know why it's blocked?"

She shook her head. "No one will say. No one can find Tom to ask him. The whole thing's a mess."

Lily was inclined to agree as a gentleman stepped past her, spilling his drink on her a little. She jumped back a bit, dodging the most part. Julie made a loud tutting noise and looked after the man, who was blissfully ignorant.

"Honestly, some of the manners in here…" Julie began, before looking back to Lily. "Anyway, I better get back to my parents. It's my little brother's first year and they're _freaking_ out."

Lily nodded. "Alright, see you." The Hufflepuff turned to leave just as Lily quickly piped up, "Oh! You haven't seen Marlene or Ambria have you?"

"McKinnon and Stretton?" Julie asked, nose wrinkled. She begun to back into the crowd again. "Can't say I have, but you're bound to see Ambria with her blue hair!" The last comment sounded much more like a judgemental dig than an innocuous statement.

Turning to continue her search, Lily started again through the sea of bodies, and - despite Julia's clear contempt - began to look out for a splash of cobalt blue. It wasn't long before she found them.

"Lils! Over here!" Ambria Stretton bounced up and down having stood up on a chair and was waving frantically in Lily's direction. Julie Murray's comment about it being hard to miss the young witch had had some merit. Despite being a mere five foot two inches, Ambria's presence demanded attention. She was eccentric and free-spirited, which attributed to her shockingly coloured hair. " _Lily_!"

"I can see you," she said, but she grinned nonetheless. With a final squeeze past a pair of bickering siblings, she found her two friends either side of a claimed table. Ambria jumped down from her perch above the chair and threw her arms around Lily.

"I've _missed_ you! It was so strange not seeing you this summer!"

Lily patted Ambria on the back and laughed, while Marlene said, "I actually thought the change was rather nice."

Ambria pulled a face at Marlene as she released Lily from her embrace, "That's not very nice, Marlene. Stop saying things like that or else Lily will want to spend _every_ summer at home."

"Not likely," the witch in question replied, plopping into a seat next to Marlene. "Even Marlene on a Monday morning has nothing on Petunia on a… well, _all the time_."

"Sounds awful," said Ambria, genuinely concerned. Marlene, on the other hand, rolled her eyes and muttered a curse word under her breath. Giving Lily's hand an excited squeeze, Ambria went on, "How was the rest of it? How's Mama Evans?"

"She's surviving. We managed to whittle down the hoarding to only thirty percent on my dad's old things."

"That's… positive." It sounded like a question.

Lily gave an odd smile, part sad, part amused. "It is. At least now I won't have to worry about coming back to some morbid shrine at Christmas."

"And you? How are you doing?"

"Surviving, too."

"Was it weird?" Marlene asked, leaning forward. "Being home without him?"

" _Marlene_ ," Ambria snapped, as if her question had been inappropriate. Lily didn't think it had been.

She shrugged. "Sort of. It's always weird going back there - something's always different."

Her friends nodded solemnly for a moment.

Changing the subject, Lily asked, "So, why are we stuck in here?"

"Merlin knows," Marlene complained with a huff. "No one will tell us anything! I'm starving too and there's no one about to serve."

"You've just eaten breakfast," reminded Ambria.

"I didn't _ask_ for your dietary evaluation, Amby."

To diffuse the situation, Lily started rummaging in her handbag and produced a chocolate bar. "Here."

"Oh, you're a _lifesaver_ , Lily!"

Ambria rolled her eyes. "You weren't going to _die_."

Her mouth full of chocolate, Marlene did not bother to respond. As she chewed her way through it, Ambria set off in an excited ramble regarding the year ahead. She squealed when Lily announced that she was prefect (though it had been expected), she voiced her disapproval at the Hogwarts staff taking on _another_ Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and she started to comprise a list of potential Hogsmeade dates for the three of them.

She was halfway into her justification that, yes, Marlene _should_ give Bernard Bones a chance when there was a sudden uproar from the crowd. The girls looked up at the noise to see everyone's attention turned towards the Diagon Alley entrance.

Then there was smoke. Everywhere.

What was the buzz of confusion before turned into panic. People cried out in question as parents hurriedly pulled their children back from the billows. Lily, holding her sweater over her nose, craned her neck to see the source.

Emerging from the black smoke, a rather official looking woman stepped into the Leaky Cauldron, her wand pressed to her neck.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm going to have to ask you to remain calm and follow the instructions I am about to relay." Her voice, formal and stiff, carried through the room, over the heads of the writhing group. The noise did not lessen. "I'm going to need _quiet_ please!"

Another man, clad in a similar style of robe, joined her side and murmured into her ear. She nodded once, abruptly, and continued.

"Please arrange yourselves into an orderly queue, and follow either myself or Mr. Gavell through to Diagon Alley. Do not be alarmed by the smoke. Keep your heads low and continue to follow the instructions until we are safely through the wall."

She repeated the same statement again as the crowd began to merge.

Ambria coughed. "I wonder what it is… it smells ghastly."

"Probably just a practical joke gone haywire," Marlene mused. "Some silly school kids getting overexcited."

Lily hoped she was right, but the delay implied that it was something much more serious. The three of them moved to join the shuffling queue, covering their noses and mouths with various parts of clothing. The process of moving everyone through was slow, and accompanied with the repetitive drone of the Ministry Witch, Lily was sure they wouldn't see Diagon Alley before lunchtime.

* * *

The counter was cool beneath his fingertips which he thought was strange for early August. His hand was splayed flat, the white of his skin stark against the black finished timber. Hovering just above the centre of it was a ring dangling from a chain.

"Don't move," said the wizard standing on the other side of the counter. It was he who held the chain above Severus' hand. His voice was both a warning and a tease. "Don't move, or you might very well end up dead."

"Is this going to take much longer?" Severus said, through gritted teeth. His wrist ached.

The other wizard, a tall, older man with a wiry grey beard shook his head. "Not much longer now."

The older wizard wasn't lying, it would only take a few more minutes. The muscles in Severus' arm pulsed gently - he didn't know if that was because of the magic or simply his own nerves. He breathed in and out slowly, attempting to ease his erratic heartbeat.

"Finished," the wizard said, bringing the chain up into his closed fist with an audible _chink!_ A shudder went through Severus' arm and he pulled it quickly to his side, shaking it a little. The man disappeared down behind the counter for a moment, before returning with a small, black velvet bag. "Take this."

Slipping it into his robe pocket, Severus went to turn towards the door before the older wizard spoke again.

"Remember," he said, this time the teasing in his warning gone, "this is important for you. You want to impress them, don't you?"

He didn't turn to look back at the man, but nodded once, then slipped out of the door.

* * *

It was precisely 10:42am when the Potters' morning tea was interrupted.

A small, sharply pointed levitating memo shot into the parlour directly towards Fleamont Potter and skidded across the coffee table. Sirius, James and Euphemia paused in their conversation – James was in the midst of discussing the pros and cons of the newest Cleansweep broom – and stared expectantly at him.

Pressing his teacup to his lips, Fleamont took his free hand and unfolded the memo. In a matter of seconds, his demeanour changed, his face paling. He dropped his tea cup and got to his feet.

"Whimsy!" he called. "My coat, please!" There was a quiet pop after a few moments and the small house elf appeared with the requested jacket. Fleamont shrugged it on quickly as he hurried to and fro in the room, scribbling on various bits of paper and slipping things into his pocket.

"Darling, what's happened?" Euphemia asked, while the boys stared on.

Fleamont let out a laboured breath. "I've been called to Diagon Alley. There's been an incident with Tully's Tandem Emporium."

"Siegfried Tully's shop?"

Her husband nodded. He did a quick pat down of his pocket, his lips twitching as he mentally checked off his list of required goods.

"Siegfried's wife, Viola, she's a muggle born, isn't she?" Euphemia's comment seemed to have a heavy significance as Fleamont's face darkened considerably, and he responded with another nod. Euphemia let out a hushed gasp and her voice lowered. "It's getting worse."

Dropping a quick kiss to his wife's forehead and muttering a quick farewell to both Sirius and James, Fleamont left room. A loud popping noise indicated that he had Apparated away.

The boys shared a look, and James turned towards his mother. "What did you mean, 'it's getting worse'?"

Almost as if she had forgotten they were there, Euphemia startled slightly in her seat. She shook her head gently and began to pour another cup of tea. "Oh, nothing for you to worry about, dear. Simply some Ministry business your father has been working on."

With another look shared between them, Sirius countered, "Is this about Voldemort?"

The too-casual mention of his name gave Euphemia another start. Her hazel eyes flicked between her son and Sirius urgently. "Where did you hear that name?"

"We're not stupid, Mum," said James, rolling his eyes. He leaned forward and looked at her pointedly. "Do you not think we haven't heard the stories?"

Sirius gave a grave look. "Some are closer to home than others."

The pair of them watched as Euphemia thought for a moment, clearly weighing her options on how easily it would be to explain this away. Sirius and James kept their expectant gazes on her, and James could see it wearing down her resistance. After a few moments of silence, she shook her head again gently.

"We wanted to keep you out of this as much as possible," Euphemia explained. She tapped her fingers around the edge of her teacup as she cradled it in her palms. She sighed wearily. "We wanted… He was just a radical at first, and your father was quite adamant that the Ministry had it under control."

"Don't they?"

"Of course they do, or at least… no, they do, but it… it's just a bigger problem than they had initially expected."

"How much bigger?"

Euphemia gave James a sharp look. "Not big enough that I want my pair of sixteen year olds getting involved."

"But big enough that they need to call _Dad_ in?" pressed James. "He's a specialist in the Ministry, he hardly _ever_ gets called in for emergencies. What's so different that normal Aurors can't deal with it?"

"It's complicated, James. Just leave it at that."

But of course, James would not. "You know, it's unfair to keep your pair of sixteen year olds in the dark like this. _Especially_ when we're off to school next week – what if you're withholding vital information I need to keep safe?"

"James…"

"Honestly, we could be walking along the platform and _poof –_ disintegrated on the spot!"

" _James, darling…"_

"And just imagine the guilt you and Dad will feel at the thought of losing your one and only prized son…"

"Oi, she mentioned me too, mate," Sirius cracked.

James gestured pointedly between him and his friend. "And your honorary adoptee…"

"And resident squatter," added Sirius.

"Think of the funeral. Such wasted youth, such sorrow…"

" _This isn't some sort of joke!_ " Euphemia snapped at him. His eyebrows shot up at the raise in her voice. James was rarely scolded, let alone disciplined. The panic subsided in her eyes when she caught James' surprised expression, and she softened her voice again, "At the end of the day, regardless of how… mature you think you are, you're a child. You're _my_ child." She looked to Sirius. "Both of you. And I will not have you messing about in adult affairs."

"But…"

" _Leave it be_ , James. Please."

Suddenly, Euphemia seemed to have no interest in her tea. She pushed her tea cup and saucer on to the coffee table and got to her feet. She called for Whimsy again.

"I have to go write some letters." Her voice was stiff and James felt a slight stab of guilt at upsetting her. Her age always began to show when she was upset with him. She rubbed her fingers against her left temple. "I'll… I'll be occupied for quite some time." Turning to the summoned elf, she added, "If the boys need anything for lunch, please make them something. Otherwise, I'll be in my study."

With that, the older witch turned and left the room.

When the door was firmly shut behind her and Whimsy had made her leave, Sirius blew out a breath between his teeth.

" _Blimey_ ," was all that he said.

James nodded, but there was not much more to be said. Instead, he gripped his chin between his thumb and index finger, and rubbed it (a habit of James' when it was thinking very, _very_ hard). He had been telling the truth when he said they had heard the stories, but to some degree that's all he ever expected them to be – just _stories_. Especially the sort that claimed a dark lord was rising with control over a medley of beasts and the ability to recruit followers from within the walls of Hogwarts itself. Hogwarts was the safest place in the Wizarding World and even if Dumbledore was a bit barmy, he would never have allowed that sort of thing to go on behind closed doors.

He suddenly got to his feet, causing Sirius to yelp. "Oi, what are you doing?" James didn't answer but crossed the room to the door. " _Where are you going?_ "

"I'll be back in a minute," he promised, and he was.

James returned with a small object, folded beneath a piece of cloth. He dropped onto the sofa next to Sirius, and unfolded the material to reveal a small, handheld mirror.

"Remus Lupin." When there was no response after a moment, he tried again, "Oi, _Remus Lupin_."

Another moment passed before the requested individual's face appeared, albeit disgruntled, in the mirror's surface. Remus looked a little more dishevelled than usual, his hair needed a cut.

"What do you want?" His voice was groggy.

Sirius leaned over James towards the mirror. "Are you still in _bed_? It's nearly eleven!"

"That's still the morning, last time I checked."

" _Barely_." Sirius grinned. "Merlin, look at you. One summer at home and you're a bona fide slacker. They're gonna rip that prefect badge from your chest the moment you step off the train."

This didn't amuse Remus. "Shut up, Padfoot." He rubbed his eyes. "I'm assuming there is an actual reason for your call."

"There is," James confirmed. Remus looked expectantly up through the mirror at him. "I don't suppose you've heard the news about Diagon Alley."

"Considering, I've been asleep for the past ten hours, I'd say not."

"Well, if you had a normal sleeping pattern, that might not be an issue." Another stern look from Remus. "Anyway, there's been some sort of… drama."

"What kind of drama?"

"The dark magic kind."

Remus was suddenly alert. " _What_?"

"Dear old Monty was just called away to an emergency," explained Sirius, "to do with Tully's Tandem Emporium."

"That weird bicycle shop?"

The boys nodded.

"But who would want to cast dark magic on a _bicycle_ shop? Surely there are grander targets like, I don't know, _Gringotts_ for example?"

"You would think so," James said, "if it was just a simple burglary gone wrong. Dad wouldn't have been called out to that though."

"No," Remus agreed. "So, it's something worse, then?"

"Much worse. Like… that Voldemort bloke, worse."

Remus' eyebrows disappeared into his (currently too long) hair. " _Voldemort_?"

James nodded. "Yeah, that tosser. Anyway, Mum got into a right tizzy when I mentioned it. Starting going on about the two of us not getting involved in ' _adult affairs_ '."

"She probably has a point."

"When has that ever stopped us?"

"True." There was a pregnant pause. "Then what do you plan on doing? We're hardly equipped to take on some manic dark wizard."

"Don't be dense, Moony. I'm not asking you to take on the bloke yourself," James said, rolling his eyes. "I'm just saying, maybe it's something we keep on our radar."

"Why? Do you think something's going to happen back at school?"

Sirius shrugged. "I wouldn't be surprised if he'd managed to convince a couple of Slytherins to do their dirty work. The way my cousins were going on about blood purity at Narcissa's wedding, I half expect them to be self-confessed followers."

"Dumbledore wouldn't let that happen, surely."

"Maybe not," said James, "but think of the stuff we've managed to get away with before."

"We weren't trying to _eradicate_ people, Prongs."

"But we've still kept secrets that _no one_ but us know about." James finished his sentence with a pointed look at his friend. "Such as your…"

"Yes, yes, I _get it_."

"So, it's completely reasonable to assume illegal activity _might_ be happening at Hogwarts," continued Sirius, "and how could we call ourselves Gryffindors if we didn't have the courage to foil their evil plans?"

"Exactly, Padfoot," grinned James. "Couldn't have said it better myself."

"You lot fancy yourselves quite the detectives," muttered Remus, still uncertain.

Proud at the implication, James and Sirius shared another grin.

"But we're just keeping this in our radar, right?" said Remus. "We're not going to anything _too_ stupid."

"'Course not," Sirius said.

James added, "When have we ever done anything too stupid?"

But the list was too long for Remus to recall.

* * *

She tried to ignore the smell in her hair.

Marlene, Ambria and Lily sat around a bar table in Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, mulling over their sundaes. The sugar rush had been a suggestion of Marlene's, both given as a solution to her hunger and as a mood improver. All three of them had been rather quiet since they came through the portal.

Lily dragged her spoon through her Clotted Cream ice cream, turning it to an indistinguishable, beige mush. She had no particular appetite and she had been thinking too much about the scene they had walked past not an hour before.

She had never seen a building on fire before. The thought of that was strange, as it was such a mundane feature of stories and films she had seen, but she had never seen it in real life. It hadn't been as exciting as she had expected. Instead, it was rather slow and sad, a delayed demise of someone's home and livelihood.

Tully's Tandem Emporium had been a strange shop just by the portal through to the Leaky Cauldron. Tucked in the corner there, it was an innocuous little building, with bright orange door and window frames, and a piccalilli yellow sign. Siegfried Tully, the owner, was a lovely man in his fifties with a daughter two years below the girls in school. He had married his wife Viola, the very woman who had introduced him to the Muggle bicycle and enabled him to start his magical bicycle business.

"It's so sad," Ambria lamented, swirling her own Fudge and Peppermint concoction around in her glass. "Those poor people."

"At least they're alive," said Marlene, though even she didn't sound convinced. Diagon Alley still buzzed around them as if it hadn't happen at all. The blaze had now been controlled and all that remained of the incident was the blackened corpse of the Tandem Emporium and the lingering smell of burnt wood.

"Who would have done such a thing?" Ambria's voice quivered with a little anger. "Siegfried has always been kind to me! How could someone have been so spiteful?"

"Some people just want to watch the world burn," said Lily. "Even literally."

"I hate those people," said Ambria, and with that both Lily and Marlene could wholeheartedly agree.

Uncertainty had been tugging at Lily's gut since the incident, tempting a question that had been so far unspoken. Ambria was right – it was unusual for someone to have committed such a malicious act without a prior motive, and it was so difficult to believe the Tully family would have had any enemies.

"You don't think…" But Lily decided against it, shaking her head. "Never mind."

The door of the parlour opened, triggering the jingling bell above it. Lily looked up reflexively, only to wish that she hadn't at all. Her heart jumped into her throat.

Severus, dressed in a shabby black robe atop of his normal street clothes, had stepped into Florean Fortescue's, a scowl already written across his face. As he walked in, a group of boys – Slytherins – seated at a booth on the other side of the parlour looked up, one of them waving him over.

"Hey, Sev!" he – who Lily recognized as Sal Carrow - called. It wasn't a friendly sort of summon, it was filled with urgency and force. The group of Slytherins all looked at him expectantly for a moment, before they turned back to their conversation.

Lily felt slightly sick, and she couldn't decide how much of that was to do with the stench of smoke in her air. She kept her eyes on Severus, half-willing him to look her way.

He did – for a brief moment – and he froze. His dark eyes narrowed on her in surprise, and for a moment, Lily thought he might approach her. Then, Sal Carrow called again – this time disgruntled – and Severus turned away.

She let out a shuddered, quiet breath. All of a sudden, she felt teary – as if she might burst into crying in a moment. She trained her gaze on her ice cream mess, determined to will the feeling away.

It was silly of her to be upset about this minor encounter with him – after all, _she_ was the one who had distanced herself from him (with good reason, but she ignored that for the moment). But watching him so easily choose a group of people that despised her existence was still a betrayal, and it still hurt.

"Honestly, Florean needs to start screening who can come in this place," muttered Marlene, her eyes set darkly on the group of Slytherins. "For all we know, it could have _them_ messing about that caused the fire."

"Don't say that," Ambria admonished. "You can't go throwing around accusations just because you don't like someone."

"It's hardly an unfounded claim though, is it? They're the sort of people who inflict suffering onto others recreationally."

"Yes, but this is a serious matter. You can't just say stuff like that – someone might hear you, and you'll get into a whole lot of trouble."

Marlene shrugged. "I'm not the one terrorizing the inhabitants of Diagon Alley."

" _Marlene_."

"Yes, Ambria?"

Ambria let out an exasperated sound. "You're such a worry sometimes."

Lily thought so too, but didn't say. Instead, she decided that it was probably time to give up on what was now a sad excuse for an ice cream.

"Didn't you say you wanted to get some new robes?" said Lily, pushing her dish away.

Marlene groaned. "Yes, but after this, I'll be three sizes bigger than usual."

Smiling gently at her friend's dramatics, Lily stood up. "Come on, I'm sure Madame Malkin knows better than to be fooled by a Fortescue food baby."

In agreement, her friends also abandoned their desserts and they made their way out of the shop.

Lily didn't look back to see Severus' gaze, quite surreptitiously, follow her out.


	3. Apologies and Roast Beef

**Happy Monday (or whatever day it is in your part of the world!) - here is chapter three Apologies and Roast Beef! This one is a teensy bit longer than usual because I'm starting to really get into the story, which is rather exciting. **

**Thank you again to wonderful reviewers TrueHomiePiP, JaneDoeEye and guest reviewers! Your words are truly appreciated. **

**Please take the time to leave a review if you love/hate/want to burn this! Every little comment counts.**

 **Summary of events so far:** Following a rather uneventful summer, Lily and her friends are faced with an incident that reminds them of the oncoming conflict in the Wizarding World. Sirius Black has been kicked out of his family home and has moved in with the Potters (temporarily).

 **Disclaimer:** Not Jo Ro (yo?).

* * *

(Apologies and Roast Beef)

September 1st came around in a flurry of new textbooks and summer rain. Lily stood between Platform Nine and Platform Ten, clad in a simple parka and jeans. In her satchel, she had a freshly pressed school uniform to change into on the train – and attached to her folded jumper, her prefect badge.

The train station was quieter than usual, with a few Muggles milling about, distracted in their own conversations. Lily was never quite sure how many incidents the Ministry had to deal with each year when some curious Muggle caught a disappearing child out of the corner of their eye.

"Oh, Lily, darling." Eileen Evans squeezed her daughter tightly, as she did every year. Beside them, Lily's trolley was stacked with her trunk and her cat, Claude, in his carrier, who was mewing rather loudly with impatience. "You will write more this year, won't you?"

"More than once a week?" Lily asked, pulling away from her mother's embrace. "That's doubtful, Mum. Even I don't have an interesting enough life to write about more than once a week."

Eileen sniffed. "With Petunia out of the house more and more, I'm going to be ever so bored without you."

She shook her head at her mother, and offered a warm smile. "You have to teach your classes. And you have your book club."

Her mother reached to cup her pale, freckled cheeks and kissed Lily on the forehead. "I would say 'be good', but I'm afraid your moral compass points due north more than my own." Lily laughed. "But," her mother added, lowering her voice a little, "be safe."

Reaching to put one hand of her own atop her mother's, Lily nodded gently. She had been successful at keeping Eileen unaware of the dangers emerging in the Wizarding World, particularly dangers regarding Muggleborns. She didn't need to worry her mother any more than necessary.

"Always," said Lily, and gave her mother a final kiss on the cheek. "Now, I will see you at Christmas. Say goodbye to Petunia for me."

Eileen wrinkled her nose. "It was a shame she couldn't come say goodbye, but she came down sudden headache…"

Lily and her mother both knew that such headache was entirely fictitious, but neither of them said it aloud. Instead, Lily waved her mother off, turned towards the barrier and stepped through the wall.

Even though it was her sixth time doing it, stepping onto Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters thrilled Lily. She loved the way the smoke billowed into the air, she loved the smell of fresh leather trunks, and she loved watching the bittersweet embraces between families. It was an excitement that she would never get used to; a reminder that, even though she'd been here so long, the Wizarding World was still novel.

She wound her way through the families dotted along the platform, weaving her trolley in a fashion so that Claude – who fancied himself a fantastic hunter – was not distracted by any caged owls. She left her trolley by the side of the luggage compartment, wished a pleasant trip to her cat, and boarded the train.

Most years, Lily would have waited for Marlene and Ambria on the platform so that they could have found an empty compartment for the three of them – however, just as she had done last year, she was required to attend the first prefect meeting of the year. The meeting wouldn't take the whole of the train ride – she hoped – and she would be able to find her friends later on.

First things first, she needed to change. Slipping into the nearest toilet cubicle, she quickly swapped her street clothes for her uniform.

Pinning her badge to her chest, she stepped out into the corridor, only to collide with someone much taller than she was. She fumbled with her badge, pricking herself in the midst of dropping it, and hissed a mild curse under her breath.

"Oh, watch your language, Evans," said a teasing voice – who evidently belonged to her point of collision – as she steadied herself. "I hear they take prefect status away for that sort of bad behavior."

Lily looked up at James and pressed her lips together in annoyance. "Thanks for the tip," she said flatly, before bending to retrieve her badge. She half expected him to swoop down and grab it out of her reach – but he didn't. Instead, he was still grinning at her when she back to a stand.

She looked at him expectantly.

"Are you waiting for an apology?" he asked, cocking his head to the side. His crooked smile only furthered her irritation.

"For being inconsiderate and knocking me over?" she countered, fixing her badge firmly to her sweater. "Of course not. If I waited for an apology every time you were rude, I'd never stop."

"Then what?" Her answer had only amused him more.

Lily huffed. "Well, I don't _know,_ Potter, you're the one standing there and grinning at me like a bloody fool."

Tsking, James returned, "There's that bad language again. Honestly, who gave you that badge? They ought to be given the sack, I reckon."

"Potter…"

" _Evans_." The crooked smile returned, though this time, it was softer. He ran his hand through his hair – she _hated_ that – and continued, "I actually did want to apologize."

"Then why don't you just –"

" _Not_ for bumping into you – that was your own clumsiness," he interrupted, leaning his hand against the corridor wall. "for after exams… last year."

Realization suddenly dawned on Lily and she felt very, _very_ uncomfortable. She spluttered – which wouldn't be for the last time that year – in an attempt to leave the conversation, but James Potter had the annoying talent of being just a fraction more eloquent than her.

"Basically," he said, silencing her stutters, "I was a git. Snape was a git. We're all gits here." He gestured his hands around as if there were more than just those two people standing in the train at that moment.

"Some more than others," Lily replied. He didn't stop grinning.

"It's not gracious to refuse an apology, Evans."

"It's also not gracious to lie, so here I am, telling the truth."

James laughed, just a short one. "Well, I'm saying sorry, anyway. Figured I'd be a bigger person than Snape – which, isn't a challenge, but I'll take it."

"How noble of you," said Lily sardonically.

Mirth lit his eyes. "I thought so."

"Are you finished? I have a meeting to get to."

"By all means." He gestured down the corridor.

Squeezing past him, Lily fought the urge to question the boy further. If she had done that, she'd never make it to the meeting and James would be right – she would end up being stripped of her title. She walked down the corridor and bit hard on her lip.

James Potter had apologized to her. Apologised. _Organically_. With no prompting from a second party! (Well, that Lily knew of just yet.) The whole scenario had her absolutely bewildered. So much, in fact, that she had completely forgotten who else she might have to have awkward – and odd – encounters with today. Namely, the person James claimed to be a bigger person than.

She knocked on the compartment door with the intention to step in – completely and utterly unprepared for another upcoming apology waiting for her on the other side.

* * *

Even at sixteen years old, Peter Pettigrew's mother went on as if he was only a child. Matilda Pettigrew fussed over her son on the platform, fluffing at his mousy blonde hair.

"Oh, I do wish you'd comb your hair sometimes, Pete," she chimed, ignoring his uncomfortable squirming.

Peter shifted away from her, pink. "Can you please not do that? I'm _nearly seventeen_ , for Merlin's sake."

"Doesn't make you any less _my_ child, Peter."

He grumbled under his breath and, thankfully, his mother didn't catch it. Instead, she ceased fiddling with his hair and gave him a once over look.

"Now, you've remembered _everything,_ haven't you, sweetheart?" His trunk had already been loaded onto the train and he was waiting out for the first whistle to make his escape. "Toothbrush, boots, cauldron?"

"Affirmative on all three, Mum," said Peter, though in all actuality he very well may had left his toothbrush at home.

Matilda gave a satisfied nod. "Wonderful."

The signal whistle he was waiting for finally blew and he practically dashed towards the train, but not without his mother sneaking a quick kiss on his cheek. She waved after him, cooing as she did.

"Bye, Mum!" he farewelled quickly, before clambering into the compartment. After an entire summer under her smothering care, Peter was incredibly grateful to have a moment to himself. Once he'd had that moment, however, his prime objective was to find his three counterparts of whom he was sure had secured a compartment by now.

He hurried down the corridor, peeking through the glass windows into each compartment, looking for James, Remus and Sirius. Most of the cabins were filled with excitable younger students - the cabins closest to the front of the train were usually where First and Second Years found themselves. He continued his search, coming to the end of the third carriage.

Peeking into the cabin, he found it to be - again - occupied. However, when Peter checked this particularly compartment, the topic of conversation within caused him to freeze.

"Isn't it… dangerous?" A Fourth Year Slytherin sat across from a Seventh Year - who Peter recognized to be Ariana Rosier - and appeared nervous. The younger girl had strawberry blonde curls and an upturned nose, and she fiddled with the cuffs of her shirt.

Rosier grinned, not in good humour but almost malicious. "Well, of _course_ , but it's not any more dangerous than say, becoming an Auror, and isn't supposed to be a noble profession?"

"I suppose." But the Fourth Year didn't seem convinced. Her eyes were wide as she leaned forward and lowered her voice, causing Peter to shift closer to the closed compartment door. "I've heard… I've heard it _hurts_."

"Sometimes," Rosier agreed, "but it depends on your strength. It would probably hurt for you."

"And the Ministry?"

"That only matters when you get caught."

Peter did not like the sound of this at all. His immediate instinct was to run and find another one of the boys - someone tougher, someone braver - but he found his feet were rather unresponsive. Instead, he continued to eavesdrop, crouched out of sight.

The younger girl continued to 'um' and 'ah' over whatever proposition Rosier had laid on the table, to the point in which the older witch said, with a lick of frustration, "There's money in it too, you know."

This had both the Fourth Year and Peter's attention. Peter frowned; what the bloody heck could they be talking about?

"M-Money?" The younger girl's voice trembled. "What sort of money?"

Zoned in on her prey, Mariana leaned forward with a manipulative smile. "More than you could possibly know what to do with. I know your family isn't very well off, Lola," (Lola Michaels, Peter realised), "and if they don't do something soon, well… I'm sorry to say, they're going to lose everything when the time comes."

With an audible intake of breath, Lola Michaels sank back into her seat. Peter managed to peek over the glass for just a moment to see what he thought might be tears welling in her eyes.

"Just think about it, won't you?" Rosier said, patting the young witch on the knee. "You know where to find us."

Lola nodded and it seemed that she was afraid to speak, as if she might burst into tears. Rosier gave another almost devilish smile before rising from her own seat and towards the compartment door.

By the time she had opened it and had stepped out into the corridor, Peter was long gone.

* * *

Despite the Prefect Meeting lasting a near two hours, there was a total of three things that Lily really gained from it:

She wasn't sure if Amelia Jensen was going to be a good fit for Head Girl - especially because when confronted with a heckle from Fifth Year Ravenclaw prefect Donald Bower, she nearly burst into tears.

Pairings for patrols were going to be drawn at random this year making her chance of being paired with Severus approximately one in twenty-six.

And that if Janie Bell and Anton Diggory didn't stop making goo-goo eyes at one another, she might have been sick on the spot.

Other than that, the meeting had been rather dull. Alan Moore, Head Boy, called it to an end as he gently pulled Amelia aside - probably in an attempt to stop her from crying. The group of prefects broke their attentive silence and the compartment filled with chatter.

"Riveting stuff," came a voice from Lily's left. She looked up to see her counterpart, other Sixth Year prefect for Gryffindor, Remus Lupin.

She gave him a smile. "Oh, absolutely. I can't _believe_ I didn't already know how the House point system worked. Did you?"

"Not at all," Remus said sardonically, "it was all new to me." He absentmindedly rubbed a spot on his chin. "How was your summer?"

"It was…" Lily searched for the right word. _Therapeutic? Cathartic? Kind-of-a-bit-horrible?_ "... alright."

Remus nodded, as if he knew exactly what she meant. "Me too."

"How's your mother?"

"She has good days and bad."

It was Lily's turn to nod. "If there's anything…"

Remus cut her off with a gentle smile. "Thank you, but I'm sure it'll be fine."

It was quiet for a moment as Lily evaluated how much she would regret asking the question that had been annoying her for the past couple of hours. If Remus was good for anything, it was acting as her own personal Potter translator.

"Remus…" she began. His eyebrows raised a little at her tone. "Something… odd occurred earlier."

"What kind of odd?"

"A James Potter kind of odd."

He nodded knowingly. "I see. What happened?"

"Well… and this is a bit strange to say but… he apologised to me. For the end of last year, by the Lake."

"I would have thought that might be a bit overdue."

"Yes, obviously, but it's still _weird_. Potter never apologises even when you ask him to, let alone voluntarily!"

Remus shrugged. "Maybe it's been eating him up over the holidays. I wasn't with him, so I wouldn't know." He paused for a second, and then added pointedly, "You could _ask_ him, you know."

What a ridiculous thought. "Yeah, because that has worked swimmingly in the past."

Another shrug from Remus, "Like I said, maybe it's been beating him up. You could give the guy some credit."

"Unlikely," said Lily, wrinkling her nose. "I've tried giving him the benefit of the doubt before and it did me no favours."

"Fine," Remus said, and then under his breath, "You two are as bad as each other."

"Pardon?"

"Nothing."

Lily was about to press forward when she interrupted by another presence. Both she and Remus looked up from their conversation to see Severus lurking quietly by Lily's side. Clearly taking this as his cue, Remus said a short farewell and disappeared, leaving the two alone.

She couldn't help but feel a little betrayed as she scowled after her friend's departure.

"Lily." Severus' voice was, like always, low. "Could I have a moment?"

Turning back to her ( _former_?) friend, Lily let out a slight sigh. "Sure, but I have to go meet the girls and…"

"It won't take long." His dark eyes lingered on her face for a lengthy moment, causing her to give him a pointed look. " _Sorry_. I just… I wanted to say sorry."

"That seems like the topic du jour," said Lily.

His black eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"It doesn't matter." Snape didn't say anything else, so Lily added, "Is that everything?"

A little flustered, he said, "Well, no… of course not… You didn't return my letter this summer."

"I didn't read it," she replied honestly. She tried to ignore the hurt look that passed over his face at that.

"Oh. Well, that would explain things."

"It would." A pregnant pause. "This is taking longer than I expected, and I really should be going." The compartment had already emptied around them, besides Amelia and Alan in the corner whispering amongst themselves.

Severus reached out and touched Lily's elbow as she turned. "Lily, please. I really am sorry."

"So am I, Sev," she sighed. "And I'm sorry that your apology isn't enough. I wish it was." She wasn't lying. "But it's just going to take more than that to make this better – to make me _feel_ better."

"Then what? I'll do whatever –"

Lily shook her head. "It's not as simple as that."

" _Lily_." His frustration seeped into her name, the first time his voice was sharp. "This is ridiculous; you're my best friend –"

"Do best friends call each other slurs nowadays?" Her voice was low but it matched his sharpness. A dangerous concoction of anger and betrayal welled in her gut. "Funny, I'd missed the memo."

Severus' face softened and returned to its previous apologetic state. "I'm trying to apologise for that. It was wrong of me – no, it was _abhorrent_ of me."

"It was." There was a finality in her voice that finally silenced the young wizard. He looked at her with a strange sort of sadness in his black eyes. Lily felt that familiar tug in her chest but she smothered in quickly – she would _not_ give in again. (At least, not yet.)

She took his silence as the end of the discussion, and turned towards the compartment door. A voice screamed in her head – the Old Lily, the _soft_ Lily – that she was overreacting, that he was misunderstood, that she could _fix_ him.

She quashed it, just as she had quashed the niggling feeling in her chest before, and left.

* * *

" _And that's a galleon to Prongs!"_

Sirius, very grumpily and with a whole lot of reluctance, began to dig into his pocket. "Talking about yourself in third person makes you look like a right twat."

"A rich twat, one might say," replied James, grinning as he collected his winnings from Sirius.

The two had claimed a compartment near the back of the train and were getting in as much gambling as they could before Remus returned and judged their entertainment choices. Their current wager – how many times they could pretend to be the Trolley Lady and sell some jinxed Pumpkin Pasties to the Third Year Slytherins down the carriage. James had bet twice – once, because it was a brilliant plan, and a second time because Cameron Avery was a complete buffoon – but Sirius had invested too much in their powers of deception and bet on a third success.

By the look on his face and his suddenly lighter pockets, he had clearly overestimated their abilities.

Sirius leaned back in the cushioned chair of the compartment, still scowling a little. They weren't alone – Peter sat in the corner, immersed in a book. Or at least, that's what it would have looked like if his legs weren't jiggling nervously.

"Wormtail, if you don't stop moving your legs, I'm going to hex them off," warned James, pocketing his galleon after a thorough inspection. Sirius had been known to fob him off with Leprechaun gold on more than one occasion. Peter blinked up at him and ceased his jiggling limbs – at least, for a moment.

James and Sirius exchanged a look as Peter's legs began to go again. It was evident in that moment that something was rather up with Peter Pettigrew – he, rather uncharacteristically, was not telling them something.

"Is something the matter?" asked Sirius, raising an eyebrow. "Or did you accidentally eat another Restless Raspberry Rope?"

"We're constantly telling you to watch your food, Wormtail…"

Peter blushed. " _No_. Nothing is the matter." He then shot a scowl at James. "And I do watch my food, it's not my fault you idiots – "

"Now, now," said Sirius, giving his friend a grin. "Let's not point any fingers. We just want to know what's got you – _your leg_ – so worked up."

"Is it a girl?" James said suddenly. He gave a thoughtful nod. "I once knew a girl who made my leg go like that."

Sirius let out a cackle, and Peter scowled.

"There's no girl," said Peter quietly and simply went back to his book, tucking his leg underneath him pointedly. Sirius and James were on a roll, however, and began to turn their wagering to Peter's potential love interest.

"Six knuts on Pamela Kensington," said Sirius confidently. "I reckon Peter likes them blonde." The latter-mentioned continued to focus on his book, but blushed nonetheless.

"Nah," James disagreed, "It's got to be Angie Carmichael. Did you see the way she waved him off last year?" He made a whistling noise. "True love, mate."

" _What?_ Are you blind or just delusional? Angie Carmichael has nothing on Kensington!"

"I'll have you know that Carmichael is not only _lovely_ but is also very adept in the kitchen."

"And you'd know this _how_ exactly?"

"Well, uh…."

The two continued to bicker, their voices raising agitatedly between them, while Peter seemed to do his very best at disappearing into the seat.

It was after a few moments of this that Remus walked in and rolled his eyes before he'd even sat down. "Can't I leave you two alone for a couple of hours without it resulting to gambling?"

"What are you talking about? We're taking an interest in our friend's love life," said James. He clapped a hand on Peter's knee. "Aren't we?"

Sirius let out a noise of protest. "Except James is bloody delusional about his own mate's _type_."

"I am _not_ – maybe if you paid more attention, you'd see –"

"—that Wormtail isn't interested in either of your predictions?" finished Remus, earning a grateful look in return from Peter. Remus then grinned at both James and Sirius, who looked a little downtrodden. "Besides, I wouldn't be betting my money on the two of you."

"And why's that?"

"Well," he began pointedly, "one of you couldn't keep a girlfriend if your life depended on it, and the other has been obsessing about the same girl since he was twelve."

"Yeah, Padfoot, leave Mrs. Norris alone already," quipped James, and then he narrowly avoided Sirius' oncoming swipe. He let out a laugh and shook his head. "You have little faith, Moony." Their conversation on the matter ended there. James continued, however, to ask, "How was the meeting?"

Remus shrugged. "Unexciting, as per." He dropped into the seat beside James and rubbed the back of his neck. "Nobody even mentioned the stuff about Tully's."

"So, they aren't worried about anything happening in the school then?" Sirius asked, sounding disappointed. "I feel they're taking a let's-stick-our-heads-in-the-sand-and-hope-for-the-best approach on this."

"Well, what do you expect? They won't just starting expelling students on a whim. They need some sort of prior evidence."

"I've got some evidence," Sirius began sarcastically. "Namely the entirety of Slytherin."

Remus rolled his eyes. "I know that even _you_ wouldn't think that lowly of your own brother."

Making a scoffing sound, he replied, "After the summer I just had, I wouldn't sound so sure."

"Maybe they're waiting for the Welcoming Feast," mused James, who now had rummaged a golden snitch from his pocket and was rolling it between his hands idly. "Dumbledore always likes to start the school year off with a bit of drama."

"Yeah, I can't imagine they'd let the prefects know before an official announcement, or warning, or whatever it would be."

They sat silently for a few minutes, each dwelling on their own thoughts. James chewed his lip, fiddled with his snitch.

Peter finally piped up. "Wait… what happened?"

While Sirius rolled his eyes with a sigh, James said, "You know – potential dark wizard setting buildings ablaze with a personal vendetta against anyone who isn't one hundred percent bred pureblood?"

The smallest of the four looked on with a blank look. "Um…"

The remainder of the Marauders let out a laugh. Sirius clapped another hand on Peter's shoulder, shaking his head through his laughter, and said: "Merlin, Wormtail, keep up."

* * *

"In in _love_!"

These were the words Lily was greeted with as she stepped into the compartment her friends had claimed. Sitting amongst piles of Pumpkin Pasties and Liquorice Wands, Ambria waved around a magazine in her hand whilst reiterating her romantic announcement. Also sitting in the compartment was, as usual Marlene, and another member of their dormitory, Freya Adessi.

"I told you that you'd like it," said the latter mentioned, at the same time as Lily inquired: "Who's in love?"

"I am," Ambria replied with a dreamy sigh. She pressed the magazine against her chest dramatically. Her hair was still a shocking shade of blue, Lily noted, which McGonagall would definitely not be happy about. "And yes –" Ambria looked at Freya, "– you were right, this is wonderful."

Still rather out of the loop, Lily asked, "What is it?"

"The Quibbler," said Ambria.

"It's a bit weird," Marlene said, wrinkling her nose in distaste. "But then again, that's your sort of thing…"

Ambria made a face. "It's not _weird_. Alternative, maybe – but it's wonderful!" She began to flick through the pages. "It has everything that mainstream newspapers miss! Look –"

She held up the magazine to Lily's face as Lily sat down beside her. The redhead blinked, attempting to focus her eyes on the page. Marlene had had a point – it did look a bit weird. The artwork was especially eccentric – though clearly a little amateur and underdeveloped – and it lacked the same air of professional journalism that the _Daily Prophet_ seemed to exude.

 **SEVEN SIGNS THAT YOU'RE INTERNALLY PREJUDICED AGAINST GARDEN GNOMES**

"It's a pretty new publication," Ambria continued, her voice bubbling with excitement. "Edited by Xenophilius Lovegood."

"Wasn't he a Hufflepuff a few years ahead of us?" Marlene asked.

Freya nodded. "Yeah, I saw him in Diagon Alley a few weeks ago – he's friends with my older brother – and he gave me a bunch of copies. It's his new venture, he said – 'to expose the truth that other newspapers continue to ignore'."

"And he's right in doing so," Ambria added.

Lily wasn't sure if internal prejudice against garden gnomes was really a universal truth that needed to be uncovered, but she didn't say anything. Instead, she simply smiled politely while Ambria continued her excited rambling. Marlene, however, had had enough of the conversation, and pulled Lily's attention away.

"How was the prefect meeting?"

Lily shrugged. "The usual." She thought of Severus and swallowed. "Sev – Snape – tried to apologise again."

With a sympathetic look, Marlene asked, "What did you say?"

"I was just angry." Lily sighed. "I've been ignoring how angry I actually am all the summer and then speaking to him…" She shook her body a bit, as if attempting to shake out the horrible feeling in her stomach. "I don't know. I just need some space from him for a while."

Marlene nodded. "But what if you get paired with him for patrols?"

"I can just patrol in silence. The same way I would if I was paired with anyone else I didn't like – like Grantham Avery."

"True – but Grantham Avery would be quite happy to ignore you too. Snape might not be."

This was exactly the problem Lily was dealing with, but with a one in twenty-six chance on her side, she wasn't particularly worried. In fact, it was going to be the task of avoiding him elsewhere that would prove troublesome.

"Potter also apologised," she mused, as an afterthought. To this, Marlene's eyebrows shot up.

"For what?"

"For back in June…"

"Blimey. How uncharacteristic of him."

Lily nodded, and then proceeded to ask a question she wasn't sure she actually needed an answer to. "Did he say something about it over the holidays?"

Shaking her head, Marlene answered in the negative. Probably for the better – it's not as if she needed anything else to overthink about.

The girls in the compartment continued their chattering for the remainder of the train ride, discussing the likes of their holiday breaks, the prefect choices for the year, and a matter of other things. Freya and Lily giggled as Ambria continued to swoon about the content of The Quibbler, and Marlene just continued to roll her eyes. As the afternoon turned into evening, the sky outside of the compartment began to turn into a tangerine haze, and soon enough, the silhouette of Hogwarts could be seen in the distance.

By the time the Hogwarts Express pulled into the station at Hogsmeade, Marlene had fallen asleep in her corner of the compartment, Ambria was still quietly pouring over her magazine, and Lily and Freya were deep in conversation about their favourite Muggle music. It was dark outside already and the platform was lit with hanging gas lamps, swinging in the late summer breeze.

Lily reached over to Marlene as the train came to a stop. "Mar, we're here." Marlene made a disgruntled sound but her eyes fluttered open anyway. The group began to gather their belongings and made their way out onto the platform and towards the waiting carriages.

Ahead of them, there was a slight commotion. By the carriages, Lily spotted a group of Second Years looking quite frazzled as an animated Sirius Black gestured wildly to the invisible steed in front of the wagon.

One of the Second Year girls let out a sudden scream as Sirius grabbed at his own arm and let out a yelp of pain. He held his arm to his body dramatically - seemingly acting out as if he had been bitten.

"It got me, Prongs!" he yelled out to James Potter, who was laughing as he leant against the station wall. "I've lost my arm!" The Second Years began to retreat in a panic, almost tripping over themselves as they did. One of the girls pushed her friend back towards the carriage, earning another scream from the group.

Lily rolled her eyes. " _Children_ …" she muttered under her breath. At her side, the now less sleepy Marlene was laughing at the boys' antics. Lily shook her head and said to her, "I don't know how you put up with them."

"Oh, lighten up, Lils," said a grinning Marlene. "It's all in good fun. Nobody's hurt."

" _Yet_." Lily couldn't help remember the boys' previous records of hexing younger students for their own entertainment.

"You've got to admit," said Freya, also trailing behind the two, "there's something attractive about it all. They're sort of like the ultimate bad boy, except without _actually_ being bad."

Both Lily and Marlene pulled faces in disagreement, though both for different reasons.

"You've never seen them disgusting after a Quidditch training session," Marlene said, wrinkling her nose. "Once you've seen that, you could never find those two attractive again."

"It's completely self-indulgent," said Lily, her voice full of contempt. "They know exactly how it makes them look."

Freya shrugged. "I think they're funny."

"More like _immature_."

They finally reached an empty carriage and climbed inside. It was a cosy fit with the four of them, and the carriage door shut and locked behind them.

With a slight jolt, the carriage began its travel up to the school.

* * *

Like every year, the Welcoming Feast was a buzz of excitement and change. The professors' table stretched out in front of the four houses, with Dumbledore sitting in his high seat in the centre. This year he donned a vibrant green robe with violet stitching and he smiled out onto the crowds of students as usual.

A line of rather small looking First Years stood at the front of the Great Hall, lead by a stern looking McGonagall. She carried the Sorting Hat with her and stood in front of a small, wooden stool. Almost at once, she began to call forward the eleven year olds in alphabetical order.

Lily sat in her usual spot at the Gryffindor table and watched the Sorting with a small smile. She enjoyed this part of the Feast; it made her feel nostalgic and she liked to guess which of the children were Muggleborn - like herself - and feeling completely out of their depth.

As McGonagall called, " _Bulstrode, Kenywn!_ ", Marlene let out an impatient yawn. "I'm starving and _shattered_ ," she said, leaning her head on her hand. "I wish the little blighters would hurry up."

"Lighten up, Mar," teased Lily, mocking her voice from earlier in the evening. The Slytherin table erupted behind her, indicating that little Kenywn had found his place there.

Marlene stuck out her tongue at her friend lazily, then gave a sigh. "I could kill for some yorkshire puddings."

Lily murmured in agreement. Yorkshire puddings would hit the spot quite nicely, with a touch of gravy and onions. She glanced down at her empty plate and found herself longing a little - she should have eaten that pastry Ambria had offered her on the train.

" _Callahan, Rosemary!_ " was then sorted into " _Hufflepuff!_ " Lily watched as the small, rather plump girl with dozens of spiralling ringlets bounced jovially towards her newly allocated table.

The Great Hall began to fill with more sporadic cheering as the new entrants shuffled forward in their queue.

The Hat then continued through _Diggory, Verity_ to _Tully, Josiah;_ Lily started a little at the final name. She looked up to see a small dark-haired boy in (very clearly) secondhand robes shuffle towards the Sorting Hat. It took her a moment, but Lily realized that he must have been the youngest son of Siegfried Tully.

Josiah looked nervous, almost flinching as the Hat was placed on his head. He had small, beady dark eyes that flicked through the crowds, looking for someone. Lily followed his frantic gaze until it landed on his sister - Danielle, a Fourth Year - sitting in at the Ravenclaw table. She gave him a smile which seemed to ease his nerves, though only slightly. His pale fingers gripped the side of the stool underneath him.

The Sorting Hat took a minute before bellowing: " _Gryffindor!_ " The colour drained even more from Josiah's face as, once again, his panicked eyes locked on his sister. He was hurried along from the stool towards the (now cheering) Gryffindor table by an impatient McGonagall, but his eyes did not leave Danielle.

Lily's heart squeezed a little as he pulled himself onto a bench at the end of the table, and immediately looked down at his lap. Around him, the other new additions to the house grinned at each and chatted excitedly, but he didn't join in. Instead he fiddled with the sleeve of his jumper - there was a tear in it.

"Poor kid," murmured Marlene. Her blue eyes were trained on the boy as well.

Lily nodded and went to add something, but the clinking of Dumbledore's goblet silenced the room.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts," his voice called out, still soft despite its volume. "I trust that those returning have had the most pleasant of summers and that those joining us this year will settle into your new houses comfortably."

Lily glanced at Josiah; she wasn't sure that would be the case for everyone.

"While we look forward to another successful year of classes, it is worth remembering the importance of friendship during your time here. We professors encourage that you focus on both academics and your co-curricular activities, if you have the opportunity. In fact - Professor Dwindleigh has an excellent Saturday morning Gobstones tournament, if anyone is interested!"

No one made an affirmed sound, but Professor Dwindleigh - professor of Care of Magical Creatures - looked on proudly nonetheless.

"And while I can assure you all that Hogwarts is a safe and _positive_ environment, we must acknowledge the incidents that have occurred outside of these walls over the holidays."

An unsettling murmur swept through the tables, but Dumbledore pressed on as if he was none the wiser.

"The acts of terror being committed around the Wizarding World are, indeed, a concern - but not something that should concern students attending classes here. Our safety procedures have been advanced to cater to these… rising issues, but we would like to ensure that all of our students remain feeling calm and safe. If anyone has any concerns they would like to address, please liaise with your Head of House immediately."

Dumbledore then went into detail on the workings of the school, the House Point system and the Quidditch Cup.

With a decisive nod, and flourish of his hand, he finished his speech: "Now that the formalities are out of the way, please enjoy your meal!"

The tables suddenly filled with a variety of dishes - potatoes piled high on platters, vegetables in steaming bowls and multiple joints of roast beef. Marlene let out a sound of relief from beside her and reached to grab the thing she had been coveting just before - some yorkshire puddings.

They only ever served roast beef when something bad had happened, Lily noted. The last time they'd served it, Professor Jensen - the old Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher - had lost his battle with a strange foreign illness he'd picked up on his travels. It had been a sad meal and it was strange that they would serve it again at the Welcoming Feast.

Nevertheless, Lily began piling meat and trimmings onto her plate. She was _starving_ after all. Yorkshire puddings, gravy and onions were like heaven right then.

Marlene had similar thoughts, letting out an appreciative moan as she chewed on some roast potatoes.

"Merlin, McKinnon, leave those kind of noises in your dorm, yeah?" It wasn't until Sirius slid into the bench across from them that Lily and Marlene realized Sirius - and quite probably his counterparts - had missed the Sorting entirely.

Marlene swallowed, and said, "Sod off, Black."

He grinned and began shovelling food on to his own plate. "Such wonderful table manners."

"You missed the Sorting," Lily said, quite obviously. Sirius simply nodded, uncaring, as he delicately picked around the mixed vegetables to retrieve only the carrots. "That's _rude_."

"Things to do, Evans, I had things to do."

She rolled her eyes and took a sip of her pumpkin juice. "You're a problem, Black."

"Only yours," he responded, and gave her a wink.

"How was your break then?" asked Marlene, who had finished devouring her first plate already. "Didn't fancy France along with your mate?"

"James?" Sirius shook his head. "Had some stupid family business. A wedding. Cheerful stuff with my bunch."

Marlene grimaced. "Oh yeah, I heard. Sorry."

With a shrug, he said, "Not your problem - and not mine either. At least, not anymore." He reached across the table - his target now the gravy boat. "You taking Arithmancy again this year?"

"God, no. That O.W.L was awful."

"Damn it," he swore. "Whose notes am I going to copy now?"

Lily scoffed gently. "Have you tried doing your own?"

Sirius looked at her as if she had suggested something outrageous - like asking if he would like to set his own hair on fire. "Uh, no. What's the point in that?"

She simply rolled her eyes a second time.

"I swapped it out for Divination again. Figured I'd give it another shot," explained Marlene.

"Why? You're about as close to being a Seer as I am to being an Arithmancer."

"Ha, ha, hilarious," said Marlene, sardonically. She shrugged. "It's an easy class."

"Then tell me my future," said Sirius, though his mouth was full of food, so it sounded much more akin to: "Fentillmemyvuchure."

"I predict that you should start chewing with your mouth closed," she grinned at him, "otherwise you might choke." With that, she gave him a quick kick in the shin, to which he then did, in fact, choke a little on his food.

"Oi!" he said, after recovering from his coughing. "You can kill a bloke doing that."

Marlene simply smiled sweetly. "One less of you won't make much of a difference."

Sirius scowled at her, and Lily couldn't help but give a nod of affirmation. Her dinner would be much more peaceful without his bickering. That being said, she was glad to only have to endure one of their presence rather than the entire gang.

Speaking of which - where _were_ they? Up to trouble, Lily imagined, without a doubt. She scanned the Gryffindor table, looking for some tortured Third Years covered in gravy or evidence of another prank gone wrong.

She found the top of James' head after a while - Merlin, his hair was _untidy_ \- as he sat down the other end of the table near the First Year additions. Of course, he was bound to be corrupting someone already. Only, after a moment Lily noticed, it wasn't just _anybody_.

James sat closely with Josiah Tully, his head dipped towards the younger wizard's. He had a sort of soft smile on his face - something she couldn't recall ever seeing him do before - and he was talking, despite Josiah's clear lack of response.

"What's he doing?" Lily wondered aloud. Then, realizing she had spoken, looked to Sirius. "Starting a bit early with the toerag antics, aren't you?"

Sirius blinked at her. "I don't know what you're on about."

She gestured to James, who had someone coaxed a smile out of his nervous companion. " _Him_. Surely you have better targets… ideally targets who haven't just lost their home to arson."

"Oh, I don't know what he's doing - but it's not part of our _toe rag antics_ as far as I'm aware." Sirius lazily leant his head on his hand. His eyes darted over Lily's face appraisingly. "You don't have much faith in us, do you Evans?"

"None at all," she answered truthfully.

Sirius grinned. "You'll warm up to us eventually."

Unlikely, Lily thought as she simply turned back to her food. If she hadn't managed to warm up to them in her first five years of school, she could hardly see how her final two would be any different.

* * *

The Tully family - prior to Siegfried Tully's rather impromptu marriage - had once been one of the most influential pureblood families in the Wizarding World. It wasn't until fifty years or so before the incident in Diagon Alley that the family fell from grace. Siegfried's father - Ulric Tully - had been in a rather high position at the Ministry of Magic, only to lose it all when he was charged with embezzlement. Still, that sort of thing can be forgiven eventually; marrying a Muggleborn, however, is something much more difficult to overlook.

Josiah Tully had been born on the morning of a snowstorm, he had been told. With a head of thick, black hair, he stood out stark against the rest of his blonde, green-eyed family. He had always felt a little out of place, a peg that didn't _quite_ fit into its hole - especially now that he had been sorted into _Gryffindor_.

His whole body had stiffened when the Sorting Hat yelled his decision. Josiah remembered the look on his sister's face - apologetic, sympathetic, but _knowing_ \- and deep down, in his gut, he could tell she had not been surprised. Of course he wouldn't follow his family footsteps and fall into Ravenclaw, _of course not_.

He had been hurried along to the Gryffindor table who were cheering (they were as obnoxious as his family had said). When he sat down, he didn't join in with the other eleven year olds who excitedly exchanged names and backgrounds. Instead, he simply looked down at his lap and played with a loose thread on his sleeve. His school uniform was tatty - it was all they could afford now.

Roast beef was his favourite food. Still, when it appeared on the table, even that couldn't produce an appetite from him. Josiah's stomach was already filled with anxious acid, sloshing in his gut - he gripped onto the table to stop himself from sliding off of the bench altogether.

He could see it panning out in his head: his life at Hogwarts. It was a blur of red and gold, and books, and loneliness, and jabs, and hexes. Looking around the table, he couldn't see himself amongst this group of rowdy Gryffindors - but he couldn't see himself anywhere else either.

It was when he was half way through contemplating running away all together when James Potter dropped into the seat next to him.

"Hullo," said the older boy, giving Josiah a crooked grin.

Josiah looked up at him, his dark eyes peeking through his too-long fringe. He didn't say anything.

"You should be excited, you know." James did not seem deterred by the boy's quiet demeanour and this rather surprised Josiah. Most people chose very early on just to leave him alone. "You've been Sorted into the best house in Hogwarts and - look at you! - just sitting here as if you've been told Christmas is cancelled."

The younger boy gave James a quizzical look but remained silent.

"Oh, is it that you _don't_ think Gryffindor is the best house?" James pressed on. "Is there somewhere else you'd rather be?"

His eyes deceived him by flitting over to the Ravenclaw table. Danielle was laughing with her friends - it seems she had forgotten about him. Josiah felt that blow in his stomach, looked back at James, and shook his head.

But James had followed his gaze.

"You don't want to be in Ravenclaw, mate," said James, giving him another grin. "Full of swots. You don't look like a swot to me."

Josiah finally spoke. "My whole family are Ravenclaws."

Nodding with a thoughtful murmur, James looked back over towards Danielle. "S'that your sister?" Josiah nodded. The older wizarding watched his sister for a moment before looking back at Josiah. "She doesn't look like your sister."

"I don't really look like anyone in my family."

"Neither do I," said James. "Except maybe my eyes. I've sort of got my mum's eyes. Whose eyes do you have?"

Josiah blinked up at James, a little thrown by the question. "Um… my own?"

This made James laugh; a strange experience for Josiah, making someone laugh. He stared at him a bit confusedly, not quite understanding the joke.

"What's your name?" James finally asked after his laughter had finished. Josiah shifted in his seat a little uncomfortably.

He replied softly, "Josiah Tully… or Joey." He blushed a little at the mention of his nickname; it was awfully familiar for someone he'd just met. Though, James Potter did seem to be the sort of person who made himself quite comfortably with strangers.

"Alright, Joey." With a grin, he introduced himself, "I'm James."

"I know," said Joey, very quietly. To this, James' grin grew and his eyebrows shot up a little over his glasses. Josiah blushed again. He only knew who James was through his sister - she was _always_ going on about the Gryffindor Chaser - and now that he'd admitted that he knew him aloud, it seemed quite embarrassing.

"You know what I reckon?" James said, stretching his legs out in front of him under the table and leaning back a little. Josiah, once again, shook his head. "I reckon the Sorting Hat hasn't made a mistake yet."

The younger boy looked up at James dubiously. He found that hard to believe. "I don't know…"

James raised an eyebrow. "Well, I've never met someone who hasn't felt right at home where the Hat has Sorted them."

This gave Joey a slight feeling of hope, though he might not have recognized it right at that moment. He was still dubiously ticking over the thought that the Sorting Hat had _never_ made a mistake.

"I'm not very brave," he said, after a moment, and James looked up from his now full plate.

James swallowed, and replied, "What makes you say that?"

Shrugging, Joey shifted uncomfortably again. "I don't know. I haven't ever _done_ anything brave."

"You've never climbed a tree?" Josiah shook his head. "Never snuck out of your house at night?" And again. James leaned down to him, his grin forming slowly. "You've never talked to a pretty girl?"

For a third time, Joey's face filled with red. "Of course not."

"Hmm." James rubbed his chin. "I guess you're not so brave after all."

As James turned back to this food, Josiah's heart sank in his chest. He had been right all along - there was _no_ way he belonged in Gryffindor house. He went back to his fantasies of running into the Forbidden Forest, finding himself a Hippogriff and flying off into the sunset.

Then, once again, James broke his reverie.

"But don't you worry," he said, through a mouthful of chipolatas, "we'll soon change that."

* * *

Lily had missed her bed.

Her bed in Cokeworth - still donned with the same sheets and cover as she had left it when she was ten - had nothing on the four-poster masterpiece in her dormitory. It was nearly ten-thirty and the Welcoming Feast was finished hours ago, but the damage done was still weighing in her gut making her feel rather sleepy.

Pulling open the velvet crimson curtains, Lily flopped onto her familiar bed and let out a contented sigh. _This_ was what being home was like.

The dormitory was still busy around her. Ambria was rattling off about the unethical qualities displayed in _Witch Weekly_ and Marlene was doing her best to ignore her by organizing her Quidditch gear. Freya, now joined by their two other dormitory mates Lucille Cavanaugh and Mary Macdonald, was sitting by the windowsill as the three of them relived their holidays through one another. Even though it wasn't quiet and she was tired, Lily still smiled up at the ceiling.

She was _home_.


	4. October, Part I

**Two updates in a week! This is actually the first half of the chapter that I was going to post on Monday, but it's so long that I needed to split it into two. This half is fairly timid, but pay attention to the dialogue because it will matter in the next chapter upload. Also, this is the chapter I like the least so far, but hopefully you will enjoy!**

 **Also - you probably won't be able to guess from this chapter, but if anyone guesses Marlene's secret romance correctly, I'll give you a sneak peek of a really good chapter coming up.**

 _EDIT 11/11/16: NEW AUTHOR'S NOTE! I have reuploaded this chapter, so it is not the second update in the week as mentioned before. This chapter was meant to be one, then it was two, and now it's being split into three because I'm getting carried away. It's worth re-reading this part as there were some changes made. To make it worth your while, I'll upload a second chapter at the same time. Thanks for being so patient with me!_

 **Thanks again to my regular reviewers TrueHomiePiP and calypso \- it warms the cockles of my heart that you guys take the time to leave a comment with each chapter!**

 **Disclaimer:** Nothing recognizable from the HP universe belongs to me.

 **Summary of events so far:** Lily is back at Hogwarts as the school year begins. She finds herself bewildered when she receives not one, but two apologies from boys she isn't in a good place with.

* * *

It was often thought that the first month of the year at Hogwarts was rather unremarkable, and that the students only really started paying attention in October. This was certainly the case for 1976. September had passed by without any significant impact, but October hit the school like an oncoming wave, with rising tension and the promise of more to come.

In October, the following seemingly innocuous but nevertheless important events would occur.

Lily Evans would find herself in a compromised position and would have the misfortune of having this witnessed.

Peter Pettigrew would have his seventeenth birthday.

Marlene McKinnon would begin to keep secrets, and they would, in turn, begin to keep her.

And, on the morning of Halloween 1976, in the most cliche of ways, Hogwarts would wake to the scream of a fourteen year old girl.

* * *

(Back in September)

The first four school weeks shot by so suddenly that Lily found herself surprised when her calendar declared September 30th. Her sixth year had been as advanced as she had expected - Potions, in particular - and with her prefect duties, her active avoidance of certain people and her mounds of homework, she had had hardly a moment to herself.

Pulling herself from her bed, Lily fumbled for her wand and flicked it towards her charmed calendar. The rest of the dormitory around her stirred; she was usually one of the first to rise. She tucked her feet into her slippers and made her way into the shared bathroom.

The Gryffindor Sixth Year girls bathroom might seem excessively large to the eyes of an outsider, but Lily had experienced all five of her roommates fighting for the sink at the same time and could not agree with the sentiment. On the far wall, there was a bath, mostly hidden by a screen partition and beside that a standing shower. Three toilet cubicles lined the adjacent wall, leading to two sinks in front of which Lily stood.

Lily would have liked to say she didn't spend much time on her appearance in the morning, but if she had said that, she would have been lying. In fact, Lily's hair - despite its smooth and relatively straight appearance - took more work that she cared to admit. She stared at herself in the mirror - she looked relatively well rested - before reaching for her hairbrush from the mantel.

As she was attacking her hair with a combination of brushing and charming, Marlene entered the bathroom, stifling a yawn. Her skin was much paler than usual and her summer tan was beginning to fade, but the dark circles under her eyes were significantly pronounced.

"Morning," she said, through her hand, and joined Lily at the mirror. She pulled a displeased face at her own reflection, then reached for her toothbrush.

"You got in late last night," observed Lily, still in the midst of controlling her hair. She had gone to bed around eleven o'clock and had noted that Marlene's bed was empty. In fact, it had still been empty later in the night when she had woken to Claude's scratching at the door to be let out.

Marlene murmured noncommittally. She wasn't a morning on the best of days, let alone when she was running on less than six hours sleep. Not that the lack of sleep wasn't her own fault - Lily had a sneaking suspicion that it may have to do with her ongoing dalliance with a Ravenclaw Seventh Year.

She simply pressed her lips against her creeping smile, and continued with her hair. Lily knew better than to challenge Marlene this early in the day, but come first lesson the details would emerge.

Lily came back into the dormitory once she had finally tamed her hair and gave her teeth a good brush. Everyone had woken up by now - Freya and Mary were arguing over a pair of tights, Lucille was presumed to be already at breakfast, and Ambria was lighting her candles for her morning meditation session.

The blue-haired girl (McGonagall had lost the argument there) looked up at Lily as she reentered the room and smiled. "Good morning, Lils. Good sleep?"

"It was alright, other than Claude wanting to be let out in the middle of the night."

Ambria nodded. "I heard him. The school should really come up with something to accommodate the animals. I can't imagine they enjoy being cooped up with closed doors." That was probably true, but Lily couldn't see the Hogwarts staff allowing cat flap installations anytime soon.

"I don't mind it," said Lily, as she gathered her book bag and scarf. "Are you coming to breakfast?"

Shaking her head, Ambria replied, "Not today." This wasn't unusual; Ambria was known for her periodic fasting. And while Lily had been known to fret on occasion and nag her friend into submission, that morning she simply gave her a departing smile, and made her way downstairs.

The Common Room was relatively empty for this time in the morning with only a couple of First Years murmuring between themselves by the fire. She passed through and out of the portrait hole without distraction - which was rather unusual, yet rather appreciated.

It was about seven forty-five, and according to her quick calculation, she would have just enough time to have a leisurely breakfast in the Great Hall and finish her Herbology questions ready for the first lesson of the day. All in all, the morning of September 30th was going swimmingly.

Like the Common Room, the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall was less occupied than usual. Lily scanned the table; out of a handful of students, she found Remus sitting by himself. At least he would be some good company.

"'Morning," he said as she sat herself in a bench across from him. He had a cheese omelette on his plate, and The Daily Prophet opened on one side. He was looking brighter than he had done the week before - once again, he'd been absent from classes - and for that, Lily was glad.

She settled into her seat and began her breakfast by dropping two slices of wheat toast on her plate. "Good morning. Finished your Herbology questions already?"

Remus nodded. "Just before." He gestured to her Herbology book which she had placed on the table beside her. "Not you, though?"

"Not quite, just struggling with the last two."

"Yeah, they're tough. Did you want a hand?"

She shook her head, her mouth full of toast. Once she'd swallowed it, she asked, "Anything of interest today?" Remus looked down at the Prophet in front of him and let out a soft sigh.

"The usual, I suppose." He picked it up and passed it across the table. "A couple of Ministry break-ins, but nothing of importance taken. They're asking for information, offering anonymity, etcetera, etcetera."

"Right…" With a piece of toast in one hand, Lily flicked through the pages idly. Phrases like "blood feud", "propaganda", and "recruitment" screamed out to her, and she had to keep nibbling her toast to stop her stomach from churning. Through her lashes, she looked over the table at Remus - she wondered if the contents of the newspaper had any similar effect on him.

"How long do you think this will go on for?" she asked after a moment, her voice quiet. Remus looked up at her, a little surprised, and shrugged.

"I couldn't say. I've never known anything like this to happen before."

Lily was quiet for a moment. "I feel like the Ministry just has no handle on this at all."

"I think a lot of people feel that way. It's very up in the air." Remus poked at his omelette absentmindedly. "But they're doing their best, I suppose. We're not seeing what's going on behind closed doors."

"True," said Lily, "it's not as if The Daily Prophet is a hundred percent reliable about this sort of thing."

With a grin, Remus said, "Probably not even fifty percent."

At that, Lily let out a short laugh, feeling lighter than before. Remus had a point - the Prophet nowadays was usually a collaboration of fear mongering and gossip. It was doubtful that the publication was relaying an accurate portrayal of the tension out there. Whether or not this was a good thing, Lily didn't know.

Officials cannot confirm… No declaration of terrorism or extremism…. Evidence yet to be found...

She shut the newspaper with a decided swoop. "Yeah, I've had enough of that." Noting Remus' deserted breakfast and her own half-chewed toast, she added, "Fancy walking to the greenhouses with me?"

Remus replied that he did.

* * *

Merlin, she was going to be in trouble when she got back to the dormitory, she thought, as his hands ran up her legs and the cold stones of the dungeon wall pressed into her back.

He was kissing her hard and so passionately that her thoughts had run away from her. She gripped his hair - the only thing anchoring her to the present - as his mouth made its way down her neck towards her collarbone. Merlin, sweet Merlin, he was so good at this…

"Oi!"

Marlene was brought back to the present by the sudden snapping of fingers in front of her face. She blinked open her eyes - she hadn't been aware they were closed - and attempted to orientate herself. Unlike moments before, she was no longer reliving her previous evening in the dungeon, but instead she was propped up against her desk in Herbology.

Her interruption - Lily - stood beside her with an annoyed look on her face. Marlene straightened herself, rubbing her eyes for a moment, and muttered a quick apology.

"I should think so," said Lily, huffing a little. "You've squashed my Irisilion root. I'll have to go and get more."

The blond didn't bother apologising again as her friend had already departed - stalking across the greenhouse to the supply drawers. Marlene rubbed her eyes again. This had to stop.

She couldn't quite remember when - or why, exactly - it had begun. All she knew was that she was so far down the rabbit hole into this… whatever it was… that every time she went to end it, she found her final words dying on her lips and being quickly replaced with his own.

It definitely wasn't love. In fact, it wasn't even like. The boy in question went so against her moral compass that it had been imperative to keep it a secret. Of course, Marlene knew that Lily had put two and two together, but she was hoping that Lily still believed it was that Seventh Year Ravenclaw - Wynn, she thought his name was. And at least Wynn would have been far enough from the truth to keep herself feeling less guilty about the matter.

But, guilty or not, this had to stop.

(Sooner or later, anyway.)

"Are you going to tell me what's the matter?" Lily had returned to the table now, with not one but two Irisilion roots. Clearly her trust in Marlene's consciousness had waned.

Letting out a slightly reluctant groan, Marlene said, "I'm just tired."

"Yeah, but why are you tired?"

"Why are you pushing?"

"Because I'm your friend." Lily added, "And I'm sick of your laziness ruining my Herbology assignment."

(You'd be more sick at the thought of what I've been up to.) "I'm not ruining your Herbology assignment. You've got replacement roots, don't you?"

Lily sucked in a breath between her teeth. "Replacement roots, yeah, but maybe I need a replacement Marlene if she's going to be this touchy." She sent Marlene a pointed glance; Marlene ignored it.

"Perhaps I wouldn't be so touchy if I didn't have someone nagging at me so early in the morning," she snapped back, rubbing her temples.

A short laugh. "I'm not nagging."

"You are."

"I am not."

"My head is killing me."

"I wonder what could have caused that." (Sarcasm on Lily's behalf).

"The nagging probably."

With a huff and a sudden drop of her gardening utensils, Lily said, "Fine, forget I even bothered asking."

There was a tense silence for a few minutes and Marlene felt rather guilty (even more guilty than she'd already been feeling that morning). With a sigh, she leaned her head on her hand. "Sorry."

Looking out the side of the eye as she prepared her plant, Lily said, "It's fine," in the kind of tone that prompted Marlene to speak more on the subject.

But she didn't, of course, because that's how Marlene was. Instead, she said, "Let me help with the potting," and they left it at that.

You see, if Marlene had been the sort of person to share the details of her (rather sordid) affair, she would have said something like Actually, I've been sneaking around in the middle of the night with boys you'd never approve of… or I'm dangerously close to getting myself into a lot of trouble. But she would rather leave Lily, whom she deemed her best friend, blissfully ignorant to avoid the inevitable condescending lecture that would come in return of her confession. She simply continued to help her friend pot her Irisilion root without another word.

Lily, on the other hand, whose plot of interrogation had already silently begun, decided only to postpone her pressing onwards until a later date.

* * *

Out of all of the Marauders, it was surprisingly Sirius who excelled in Herbology. Not that that encouraged his love of the subject - he still treated it as lightly as the rest - but at least it was an Outstanding in his exams.

The morning of the 30th of September, James happened to be his assigned partner (Professor Wilture had a soft spot for the two) and they were standing side by side at their table as James carefully dissected their bulb.

"Careful," Sirius warned, flicking purposely through his notebook. "If you cut too deeply, it'll squirt you."

James scoffed a little, but smiled. "I'm being perfectly delicate."

"If you say so. Just… aim it over that way, eh?" James did as he was told, his grin widening, and shifted the bulb over the other side of their desk. "Great - now it's in squirting distance of McKinnon instead."

"Probably not the best morning to get on her bad side," James noted, his scalpel-like tool poised above the bulb to make a second laceration.

"What makes you say that?"

"Bumped into her in the Common Room this morning and she about had me for breakfast."

Sirius grinned. "Did she now?"

Rolling his eyes, James said, "Not like that, you pervert. You know she doesn't function well on no sleep and… from the looks of it," he nodded in Marlene's direction, who had begun to snooze on her desk again, "she hasn't had much."

"Would suck to be Evans right about now then, I s'pose."

James murmured noncommittally, but found himself glancing at the back of redhead anyway. (He made a note that this was another habit he intended to curb.) She had her hair up differently today, he noticed, all bunched up on top of her head.

The sixteen year old wizard had been doing an awfully good job at ignoring his feelings of the Lily Evans front. In fact, it had been an entire 30 days since their last unpleasant interaction.

James didn't like to think of the fact it had also been 30 days since they'd really interacted at all.

"She better get a good night in tonight then before tomorrow," continued Sirius, who was now brushing the end of his quill against his chin. "The last time she was in a mood at practice, she almost maimed me."

"You probably deserved it." James put down his scalpel for a moment, and inspected the two half bulbs. "I reckon we've got a good shot this year though."

"Of being maimed by McKinnon?"

"Of winning the Cup." The taller boy scowled at his recollection of their last Quidditch season. "I can't bloody believe we let it slip to Ravenclaw last year. That call Herram made was absolute bollocks."

Sirius let out an exasperated sound. "Don't bloody remind me! Oh, wait, actually - do remind me. I need to hex him under the table the next time I see him in Arithmancy."

1976's Quidditch Cup had slipped rather narrowly from the Gryffindor team's grasp after - what James decided was - a bad call from the referee. The boys had soon put this down to the fact that Bartley Herram, a former student, only two years out of Hogwarts, was knocking boots with Ravenclaw Chaser Melissa Bones. This had soon turned into a bit of a fiasco, involving their infamous map and the revealing of the pair in a broom closet off of the Third Floor the following night. It didn't win them back to Cup, but it satisfied them somewhat to know that Herram had been asked to step down from him position.

"We just need to up our game in terms of defense," said Sirius. "Now that Shacklebolt's gone -"

James had stopped listening. He, while pretending to focus on the bulb and scalpel in his hand, had been distracted by the sound of the conversation occurring on the table next to theirs.

Whatever had happened with Marlene in the Common Room was nothing on what was happening between the aforementioned witch and her friend. Marlene had tensed up, and James could practically see the raising of the hair on the back of neck. Lily was, of course, Lily and was shaking her head and tutting and doing all the sorts of things people who believe they have the moral high ground do.

(James had experienced those tuts and head shakes more times than he could count.)

Lily's utensils dropped onto the table with a slight clanging noise. "Fine, forget I even bothered asking."

A tense silence. Sirius' voice briefly filled the gap, then an apologetic Marlene. And then Lily again, "It's fine."

"... Really, you'd think the bloke would be able to hit a bludger with the size of him, but Merlin... "

The two girls were quiet for a moment as they potted their roots - Irisilion, James noted, which he thought was typical of Lily. It was there next topic of conversation that he was really rather interested in.

"Hey, Marlene?" Lily's voice had that pressing tone about it again, but this time it was a little more delicate. The blonde murmured to indicate her listening, and so Lily asked, "What do you think of Sal Carrow?"

"Uh, other than he's a bit of a tosser?"

Lily shrugged. "Do you think…?" Her thought ended there with the press of her lips - much to James' dismay.

"If we could get them to give us the pitch for practice on Thursdays, we'd have a massive advantage…."

"Do I think what?"

"Nothing, just - just Sev has been spending a lot of time with him recently, and…" James' teeth grit ever so slightly at the mention of Snape. Lily shook her head suddenly. "Nothing. I'm being silly."

"You're not even listening to me, are you? Prongs."

"I know that Snape was your friend, but he treated you really horribly." Exceptionally horribly. "Why do you even bother with him?"

What an excellent question. So excellent, in fact, that James had almost entirely stopped paying attention to what his hands (and scalpel!) were doing to listen to Lily's answer.

There were a few choice words James would have liked to here come out of Lily's mouth. Somewhere along the lines of "Because I suspect he's up to no good and I'm a spy" or some other variation that did not imply she had any positive feelings towards the wizards.

However, instead of that, he heard a sharp "Prongs!" followed by a loud, liquid-y sound and a medley of gasps.

In his determination to invade the privacy of the two young witches in front of him, James had very much abandoned the warning of caution Sirius had given him only minutes prior and had sliced his bulb in such a way that a rather pungent black liquid shot all down the back of Lily Evan's school blouse.

Oh, fuck.

James blinked at the scene before him. Lily had whirled around, breath sucked in sharply, eyes blazing upon the sight of him with the weapon of choice still in his hand. He dropped the scalpel.

"What the hell is your problem, Potter?" she snapped, and for a moment, wrinkled her nose in disgust at the putrid aroma filling the greenhouse. The inkish liquid dripped down her back, running down the hem of her skirt and was down trickling down the back of bare legs. James tried not to look at them lest earn himself an even worse telling off.

James fumbled for a second. "Bugger," he muttered, and then, "Evans - I really didn't mean to -"

Sirius had by now let out a cackling laugh, clearly no longer concerned about his previous warning either but terribly amused at his friend's misfortune. Lily shot Sirius a glare, ensuring he knew that she did not share his sentiments on the matter.

"Please," said Lily, turning back with the same glare now directed on James. "Slicing Mandrake root is something a Second Year can handle without complaint. Are you completely brainless or do you just enjoy making my life painful?"

"It was an accident," tried James, as he shook his head. He made an attempt to step towards her, but she pulled back sharply.

With a bitter and dubious look,, Lily countered, "Then why was it directed towards me?"

"Oh." He was stuck. "I, uh, I don't really know."

Sirius was still laughing at his companion's dumbfounded response, clearly unable to offer assistance.

"It's just a case of you being careless," said Lily. "As per usual. God forbid a day go by without ruining someone's morning." Her voice grew dark. "How amusing for you and your little friends."

This annoyed James, considering the lengths he had taken in the past couple of weeks to avoid annoying Lily and her friends (which, in a related fashion, was more to do with the fact that he was avoiding her altogether).

"It was an accident, Evans," he reiterated. "And it'll come out - don't get your knickers in a twist."

By now, Marlene had retrieved her wand from her bag and was performing a lengthy scourging spell on Lily's shirt. It would still need a blanching spell to get out the stain, James realised, but he wasn't going to say that and make matters worse. He was smarter than that, after all.

Lily simply made a face at him - Professor Wilture had begun to walk in their direction - and turned briskly back to her work with a final: "Do us both a favour and leave me alone, Potter."

Under his breath, James replied, "Gladly," though in all actuality he wasn't sure if that was entirely possible. Despite their fight being relatively short lived, he let out laboured sigh and turned back to his bulbs, now limp without their inner filling, and tossed them aside.

Days without a negative interaction with Evans: zero.

* * *

(October First)

With a content sigh, Ambria declared, "I love this time of year."

She, Lily and Marlene sat on the north side of the school grounds, enjoying some of the early afternoon sun. The trees dotted around had already begun to turn, a few golden leaves littering the grass. They had gathered beneath one of the large oak trees, lying on blankets they had summoned from their dormitory.

It was still a few weeks to go until the first Hogsmeade visit of the year, so the girls' weekends often consisted of homework and lazing about the school. Due to the weather on this particular afternoon, they had made the decision to finish their last assignments outside on the grass, though if any work was actually being accomplished was debatable.

"I would love it more if Slughorn didn't insist on setting us N.E.W.T level assignments five weeks in," grumbled Marlene, who tossed said assignment to her side dramatically. "We can't all be the Lily Evanses or Severus Snapes of the world."

Lily rolled her eyes with a smile. "Don't say it like that."

"Did you have any issues with the essay?" Lily shook her head; she had not. "I rest my case."

"You're good at other things that I'm not," insisted Lily, as she leaned back against the tree trunk, "like Quidditch."

"Yeah, Quidditch is really going to help me out getting into the Auror program in the States."

Lily grinned. "You never know. You could need to go undercover as a famous Quidditch player to spy on other teams. Maybe crime families use Quidditch for money laundering."

"Oh yes, completely probable," said Marlene with a roll of her eyes.

"I read an article that claimed purist crime families are actually channelling their money through the Ministry," Ambria piped up. She was lying on stomach, her legs crossed in the air. "It was such an interesting read - if you want to read it, it's in this month's -"

"Quibbler," said Lily and Marlene at the same time in a mocking tone, then burst into laughter at the look on Ambria's face. "Honestly, Amby," continued Marlene, "Why are you so obsessed with that drivel?"

"It's not drivel," she argued, offended, but didn't say any mention anything else about the magazine. "I wouldn't be surprised, you know. If the Ministry was being corrupted, I mean."

Lily shrugged. "I'm trying to have faith in our government. Otherwise, who else can we trust to end this?"

"Ourselves?" Marlene suggested. "It's about time someone got out there and actually made a difference."

Rolling her eyes, Lily said, "And you're volunteering? Merlin, you sound like Potter and Black, recklessly throwing about claims that you're going to take down Voldemort yourselves." There was a slight awkward pause at the mention of the dark wizard's name. "Sometimes I feel like you fancy yourself invincible, Marlene, and that's really not a sensible way to live."

"I don't fancy myself invincible," said Marlene. "I'm just saying there's a reason so many of our year are pushing to join the Auror department. No one trusts the Ministry anymore."

"Well, I do," Lily returned defiantly. And, despite her firm statement, she felt a little tug of guilt at her dishonesty. It was true that she wanted to trust the Ministry, but it was also true that reading headline after headline of the attacks happening all over Europe had her faith waning.

She hated how in recent days these conversations often ended in a tense debate between her and Marlene. There was something off with her friend - something she couldn't put her finger on - but it scared her a little bit. She was afraid that Marlene was on the edge of doing something dangerous.

"I'm sure it will all work out fine," Ambria offered, her voice sweet and soft. She was the peacemaker in this situations. "This is how wars work, isn't it? But good always wins. Always. Otherwise, what's the point?"

Lily didn't want to point out that the role of 'good' really depended on which side you were standing.

Instead, she simply reached over to Marlene's discarded assignment, and said, "Here, let me have a look at this and I'll give you a hand." Marlene accepted this as Lily's white flag with a somewhat grateful smile, thus ending the conversation.

The girls sat and mulled over Marlene's Potions assignment - a study on the surprising results Solution of Gillyweed had in mermaids - for a little while into the evening. In fact, the sun had lowered to the edge of the mountains in the distance, indicating that supper wasn't too far away.

Lily was just finishing up helping Marlene with her conclusion (including the argument that no, it was not beneficial for the mermaids to sprout a second set of fins out of their elbows) when another group crossed the grass nearby.

Her green eyes flicked up just as a handful of students - Slytherins, she recognized - began to head towards the Forbidden Forest. She frowned as she noticed Severus was part of the group, as was Sal Carrow and Grantham Avery.

An unsettling feeling lingered in Lily as she watched them walk, their head close together in conversation and determination in their stride. They were clearly up to something, and knowing the company Severus was now concerning himself with, it was hardly going to be something good.

"What do you think they're doing?" she asked her friends, keeping her eyes trained on them. Marlene and Ambria looked up from the former's almost complete essay and followed her gaze. They both frowned.

"God, they're creepy," said Ambria, as Marlene shrugged and suggested, "Their usual lurking in the shadows, spitting on anyone who isn't a purist maniac."

Lily hoped that this was the case, that they were just doing what her and her friends were doing and just simply filling their Saturday with menial business, and that it was nothing more sinister. Just like she wanted to have faith in the Ministry, she also wanted to have faith in Severus.

With a shake of her head, she turned back to her friends. "I'm just being silly," she said, and to that Marlene agreed in jest. Once again, the girls returned to Marlene's essay, and before long, made their way back up to the castle for supper without a second thought on the Slytherin group.

Still, if Lily had dwelled on her fearful curiosity, and if she had followed the boys on their journey towards the outskirts of the grounds, she might have found that the unsettling feeling in her stomach had been warranted nonetheless.

* * *

Horace Slughorn was infamously known for having favourite students. It wasn't as if he attempted to hide the fact, however, donning his classrooms and offices with framed photos of his collection of prodigies from his years of teaching. The Slug Club, an elite group of which Professor Slughorn hand selected to dine with him each year, was something held in both high regard and contempt, depending on who you asked. And, as she did every year since her Second, Lily had received her invitation.

She sat in the Potions classroom on the third Wednesday of the month reading the chapter in her textbook on the benefits of Pepper Up potion. It was then, only five minutes or so into the class, that Professor Slughorn began to wander around the desks, dropping purple inked envelopes periodically. When an envelope of the same descript landed on her desk, Lily simply looked up with a thankful smile.

"Good morning Professor," she greeted, taking the envelope in her hands. "How are you today?"

Slughorn smiled warmly. "Excellent, my dear. I take it you will be attending the dinner this year, as always? I've chosen an excellent speaker this time around."

"Of course," said Lily, returning his smile. "I mean, as long as I'm not too buried in assignments."

"You won't be, I'm sure," Slughorn's voice bounced with pride. "You're one of the most diligent students we've seen in your cohort, Miss Evans."

Knowing that Slughorn was utterly biased - after all, he did have his favourites - Lily simply gave him another smile in manner that masked the discomfort she often felt in similar situations. He quickly moved on from this, for which she was grateful, and directed the conversation towards the day's lesson.

"Where's your partner?" he asked, noting the absence of Ambria in her usual seat next to Lily.

"Hospital Wing," explained Lily. "Bad cold." It was rather ironic, Lily thought, that Ambria would find herself absent with the sniffles on the same day they would be practicing their advanced medicinal potions.

Tutting sympathetically, Slughorn said, "A shame. I do rather enjoy Miss Stretton's bright spark on a Wednesday morning. Nevertheless…" He peered around the classroom for a moment, and then, "We'll find you a replacement."

Lily followed his searching gaze and blanched after a moment. "Oh, Professor, no, it's not a bother…" But Slughorn was already gesturing towards a particular wizard with dark hair that curled around his chin slightly and piercing onyx eyes.

"Nonsense, Miss Evans. You and Mr. Snape have worked seamlessly in the past, I can't expect you will do badly today."

Inclined to disagree, but knowing better, Lily simply held in her sigh and trained her eyes on the desk in front of her. She did not want to look up to see Severus approach, lest let him see the reluctant look on her face.

With a cheerful farewell, Slughorn moved on to the next table, just as Snape pulled out the chair beside her. Lily didn't say anything at first, occupying herself with her textbook. When she didn't greet him or acknowledge him in any fashion, Severus broke the silence.

"Are you not even going to pretend to be civil?"

His words were so accusatory that they almost made Lily jump and once again, as it often did when Severus was present, guilt swept through her. As it did, she forcefully pushed the feeling aside and reminded herself that she was not in the wrong. However, he was quite right - in order for them to complete their task this lesson, she would have to practice some common civility.

"Hello Severus," she said curtly, not only ignoring his question but contradicting it entirely. He eyed her for a second, unsure. When he didn't answer straight away, she said briskly, "Right, so, we should start with Pepper Up…"

"Have you thought about my apology?" he asked.

Lily blinked at him. "Oh… no." She shifted in a seat for a moment, straightening herself. "I never promised that I would."

"I know, but I thought…" Snape trailed off, and sighed. "I thought you might have changed your mind." Lily didn't respond for a while, so Snape then tried, "Have you?"

"Why are hanging out with Sal Carrow?" Lily asked instead of answering him. What a dangerous question to ask, and, in all honesty, she wasn't sure why she had done. She didn't want to start an argument, but now it was inevitable.

When Severus rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath, she continued, "Surely there are less closed minded and violent people in Slytherin to hang out with."

"While who I hang out with isn't your business," (Anymore, was the unspoken word), "I'll let you know that he isn't as closed minded as you think."

Lily scoffed. "Doubtful."

With narrowed eyes, Snape said, "Now who's being closed minded."

She ignored his comment and withdrew from the desk, making her way to the supply closet to collect their ingredients for the Pepper Up potion. Both of them had mastered this in their previous year, but Lily always found it helpful to warm up before taking on further challenges. She returned, her arms filled with various vials and jars, and dropped them onto the desk.

"I don't trust him," she said, as she began to unscrew a jar. Snape looked surprised as she spoke.

"You don't need to," he replied bitterly. "Last time I checked, nobody was asking you to be his friend."

"You mean, nobody is asking me to risk my life fraternizing with someone who would like to see me, and all other witches and wizards like me, dead? Yeah, no thank you."

Snape let out a frustrated sound. "Why do you always have to bring this up? No one wants you dead."

"Severus, I know you're not stupid enough to believe that."

"Fine." Snape's hand shot out and grabbed Lily's wrist gently, stopping her in her organization of the ingredients. "But nobody here wants that. You're being prejudiced."

"I'm being prejudiced?" she asked, her voice strangely calm. Carefully, she removed her wrist from his grasp. "Come to me when your and Carrow's lives are at risk, and perhaps I'll be more sympathetic to your cause."

"Lily."

"Severus," she countered, stopping in her sorting. She turned to look at him, her eyes boring into his own. In that moment, she wished she could convey how she felt through something other than words. "I'm worried about you. I really am."

His face softened. "You don't have to be."

"It doesn't mean I want to be your friend again," she reminded, and at once his face hardened again, "it just means that I'm concerned that you're getting yourself into trouble - a lot of trouble. Especially when you're spending so much time with Sal Carrow. Don't give me that look, Severus."

He didn't respond.

"You're better than this," Lily continued, her voice low. "You know that you are." Again, he made no attempt to answer as he chopped up his ingredients. With a sigh, Lily turned to the cauldron she had conjured to the desk and set it on top of a flame. "I just want you to be careful," was the last thing she said, under her breath and so quietly she wasn't even sure if he'd heard it.

The two continued in silence, albeit the occasional instruction shared, for the remainder of the lesson. Lily was relieved when Slughorn dismissed the class; she had spent most of the lesson completely distracted.

She had been struck with the idea that she and Severus were in some sort of inbetween place. They were far from friends - Lily had made sure of that - but she wasn't entirely ready to write him off either. She still cared for the boy, who could she not? He had been her best friend for such a long time during her childhood, and she was starting to wonder if she would ever find herself not concerned with the people he associated with.

It was frustrating to want something for someone - to know that they deserve better - and to have them reject any help along the way. Snape frustrated her, angered her and worried her to death.

Yet, despite all these things, she didn't say a word when the class came to an end, she simply gathered her things and left.

* * *

(Peter's Birthday)

October wasn't the worst month to have a birthday. Especially when it was the second week. The weather was usually nice enough to spend some time outdoors, as long as it was daylight, but it wasn't so sweltering that it was unbearable for more than a few minutes. And Peter liked having his birthdays outdoors, especially when food was involved.

As for all of their birthdays, the Marauders did not skimp of celebratory goods. Whomever's birthday it was not usually spent the day prior organizing various activities for the following day and there was always a surprise or two to be expected.

Peter, despite being the smallest, was the eldest of the four. This was rather ironic, especially when he was the only one who needed a charmed identification card to sneak into pubs with his friends. He was seventeen now, however, which meant he was the only legal adult in the group.

"To your first swig of firewhiskey!" Quite clearly a lie, but the rest of the Marauders joined Sirius in his jovial toast as they sat on the grass bank of the Great Lake. Like usual, it was a pleasant day; there was a few cottony clouds dotting the horizon, but nothing too foreboding. Peter grinned and took a large swig from his plastic tumbler, the familiar sting of alcohol tickling his throat. The rest of them laughed at

Sirius' blatant dishonesty.

"Maybe this year you'll actually learn how to Apparate," said James, also sipping his drink. He swallowed, and with a grin added, "And you'll be legally allowed to."

"Yeah, catch up to the rest of us, mate," said Sirius.

Remus shook his head. "As if he isn't already breaking enough laws hanging around with the likes of you."

"Last time I checked that was for your benefit," Sirius pointed out.

Peter nodded. "That's very true, you know." Remus scoffed, and once again shook his head but this time grinning. "I only break the law for you - not them."

James and Sirius let out a roar of laughter at Peter's unusual contradiction (which was most likely the product of the firewhiskey) and he felt rather smug. It was a rare treat for him to elicit such a reaction

from the pair, with him usually being the butt of their (somewhat innocent) teasing.

"You've got to admit," said James after the laughing subsided, "it's pretty fun breaking the rules."

"It's extremely fun," corrected Sirius. "How could it be anything but?"

Sardonically, Remus replied, "I'll remind you of that when I visit you in Azkaban."

The dark haired wizard scoffed, rolling his grey eyes, and then said, "As if that place could hold me." Remus and James shared a look at their friend's overconfidence.

Between the four of them, an array of goods procured from the kitchens sat on a blanket. Peter's favourites were among the mix - strawberries, pork pie and pigs in a blanket - along with other treats the House Elves had prepared. The boys had spent such a significant amount of time in the kitchens after curfew - and had arranged so many of these birthday events - that the staff had now begun to prepare their food selection without request.

Peter popped a strawberry into his mouth, and while he tasted it, found himself appreciating his friends a little more than usual. Despite his occasional self-doubt about his placement in the quadrant, it was days like his birthday that he was reminded that he, too, was an important part of the group. He wasn't just some spare.

He couldn't quite remember when he'd been officially initiated into the Marauders. James and Sirius had been friends since the train ride to Hogwarts, and it was sometime towards the end of their First Year that Remus had really let himself have friends. To Peter, it seemed as if he'd been in this group forever - there was no definitive "moment". He remembered the day they had found out about Remus' affliction, the day they had first read about Animagus transformations, and the day they had decided to create the map. Those days - along with his birthdays - were the sort of days that settled him.

"Alright," James said, after they had all eaten a little of something, "close your eyes, Wormtail."

"Merlin, don't bother with that… just give it to him!"

James rolled his eyes. "You're a spoil sport and a half, Black." He handed over a small parcel wrapped in brown paper and string. Peter took it with an appreciative smile and ripped it open without any consideration for the wrapping.

Inside was a leather bound box with a small brass clasp on the side. Peter opened it gently - the clasp seemed old enough that it might have just snapped away - and what was inside made his chest squeeze in an unfamiliar way. Nestled amongst an inner lining on purple velvet was a very antique, very tarnished pocketwatch.

"Oh," said Peter, unsure if he could conjure any other words from his vocabulary. It was a traditional in the Wizarding world that, on their seventeenth birthday, a young witch or wizard received a watch of some descript. Usually it was a family circulated heirloom or a newly purchased piece from Diagon Alley, but his mother could not afford nor source either.

The gesture was so discreetly significant that Peter felt his heart pounding, and found himself with the feeling that he would never be able to return such a gesture of this magnitude. The other three would receive their watches from their respective families - Remus, from his mother, and Sirius and James from the Potters. They had no true understanding of the meaning of their gift, and for that, Peter was partly glad. He looked up at his friends and beamed.

"Do you like it?" asked Remus, whose eyes twinkled a bit at the sight of his friend so pleased.

Peter nodded. "Yeah, it's…." He paused, brushing his thumb over the pocketwatch. It was perfect. "It's bloody brilliant."

The four of them laughed at his curse - Peter was not wont to swear often - and Sirius poured another round of firewhiskey. For the rest of the afternoon, Peter kept the pocketwatch clasped protectively in his fist.

He wasn't just some spare.

* * *

"I didn't think you'd show tonight."

Marlene rolled her eyes at his comment as she stepped into the unused classroom. This was their usual place to meet; the smallest classroom in the far side of the dungeons was rarely frequented by teachers, let alone students. She reached up, tugging her ponytail tighter, and gave him a pointed look.

"Do I ever not show?"

His grin rivalled the devil himself. "No."

She kissed him then, hard and fast, and let the thrilling butterflies in her stomach stifle the churning of the guilt that she never could manage to shake.


	5. October, Part II

**Hello again! So, first of all: sorry for the delay. You know when work gets crazy and then you lose where you're up to in your story, and then you want to restructure the entire chapter? That happened. Twice. If you've read the last chapter, you'll see I've made some changes, but if not, go have a look!**

 **Basically, work has calmed down a bit now and I'm back into the swing of things. Be patient with me, we'll get going soon enough! Please leave your thoughts and feedback, as always these fuel the writing engine.**

 **Disclaimer:** Nothing recognizable from the HP universe belongs to me.

 **Summary of events so far:** Lily is still dealing with the fact that Snape has some rather unsavoury friends. Marlene is having a secret affair, one that she knows her friends won't approve of. James is still his hardest not to think about or interact with Lily, but sometimes things don't always go in his favour.

* * *

 _(October Eighteenth)_

Oh, good Merlin, she was _late_.

Lily skidded down the corridor, almost missing the staircase down to the Third Floor. Her shirt was practically open, with her buttons done up in a mismatched pattern, and she hurriedly tried yanking a sweater over her head.

She was so, so, _so_ late. And Lily had a rule about being late - namely, _don't be_.

It wasn't her fault, to be fair. There had been a series of unfortunate instances that came into play and had inadvertently caused her tardiness.

For starters, there was the fact that she was awoken in the middle of the night due to a loud explosion from the Gryffindor Common Room. That was due to James Potter and his silly little gang, of course, but Lily didn't care enough to stick around for the details. Then there had been the fact that she'd slipped in the shower due to being _ridiculously sleep deprived_ and almost broken her foot - Lily _had_ cared enough about that to mope about it for a little while. She had been so torn up between visiting the Hospital Wing and attempting to wake her roommates up in time (read: wake _Marlene_ up in time), that she had let the morning slip away from her.

And now she was late.

She was halfway down the corridor towards the passageway (the only secret one she knew), with only one arm tucked in her sweater, when she was joined by someone rushing at her side.

"Evans, I -" The moment she recognized the voice, and paired it with the sight of his face, she shut him down.

"Not _now_ ," she said through gritted teeth, finally fitting her struggling second arm into its sleeve. She continued determinedly - she was so, so, _so_ late now.

Sirius Black, her pursuer, frowned as he jogged to keep up to her. "Oi, don't run away like that. I need to speak with you."

Attempting to catch her breath from running down three flights of stairs, Lily turned to him and shook her head. "I don't need to talk to you. I _need_ to get to Transfiguration or else McGonagall might have my head."

He gave a shrug. "I'm always late, it's not usually an issue."

"Yes, well -" Another gulp of air. "- you're _you_ , aren't you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what you think it's supposed to mean." She reached the passageway and squeezed inside the opening behind the tapestry. She thought that would have stopped Sirius' pursuit, but it did not. With a groan, she quickly hurried down the sloping tunnel, which would soon lead to the Ground Floor.

Sirius' voice was just a touch arrogant. "You can't avoid this forever you know." _She knew_. "It's going to come out eventually." Merlin, she wanted to hit him. Or strangle him. Or _something to shut him up_.

She pretended to ignore him and, somehow along the passageway, managed to create a distance between them. Very nearly at the entrance to the Ground Floor, Lily allowed herself a look back.

Sirius simply shook his after her with a wide grin. Her stomach plummeted. Out of all the people who could have witnessed her _indiscretion_ , why on earth did it have to be the one with the biggest mouth?

* * *

( _The day before:_ _October Seventeenth)_

 **DOZENS KILLED IN CURSING SPREE IN NORTHERN FRANCE**

 _Officials from the Parlement de Magie have released a statement announcing a death toll of precisely twenty-seven individuals, both Magical and Non-Magical folk, in the Northern town of Saint Malo. The so-called Death Eaters, purist followers of the Dark Lord, have yet to come forward and claim this attack, but witnesses have reported seeing individuals in dark robes and masks amongst the spell fire. This is the fifteenth attack in Europe since the beginning of the year._

James hadn't bothered to read the rest. Instead, he had skipped to the list of casualties, his heart in his throat, and his fingers clenched so tightly around the pages of _The Daily Prophet_ that they tore.

 _Audrey Girard… Solenne Bonnehome…_

Up until now, James had been lucky enough not to really know anyone lost in the war. Sure, his parents had known people and James had known people who had lost loved ones, but no one within his close circle of family and friends had been taken. He had appreciated that, up until now.

 _Dany Beaufils… Yvon Alard… Natacha Grandjean…_

Some of the names on the list had pictures of the victims next to them. It made it so much more horrible, James thought, to see their smiling faces - some with their children and spouses - and knowing that they would not smile again.

 _Wilfrid Cordonnier… Matheo Bain…_

The Great Hall was relatively cheerful around him. He couldn't imagine anyone else in the room was pouring over the _Prophet_ like he was, no one would shed tears for the victims across the Channel. Breakfast was continuing as per usual and for that part of James was glad. His heart pulsed against his Adam's apple - he would not be eating this morning.

 _Laura Borcier… mother… wife…_

If James had believed in a higher power or a divinity, it was around about now that he would have prayed. He had almost reached the end of the list, but he had not allowed himself any hope. When he reached the third name to the bottom, his stomach churned and his face paled.

 _Emil_ _é Jacquinot._

* * *

Lily had set down to breakfast a little later than usual, partly on account of the fact that she had forgotten to complete her Charms homework the evening before. It had been an easy essay but she had been so overly tired (she hadn't been sleeping well) that she'd fallen asleep by the fire in the Common Room. It wasn't until the early hours of the morning that she'd awoken and taken herself to bed, completely forgetting about the remnants of her homework still to be done.

Now completed, her Charms essay was tucked into her book bag and she waited patiently for one of the intermittent staircases to come to her floor. It was a nice morning for October and the sun shone through the stained glass windows in the hallway, tempting the castle's inhabitants out into the cool, crisp air.

When she finally reached the Entrance Hall - the stairs were particularly petulant that morning - she had expected to continue her uneventful ( _peaceful_ ) stroll into the Great Hall. However, this was not the case.

Instead, as she descended the final step, she was almost completely bowled over by two frantic sixteen year old boys.

"Watch it, Evans!" came from one of her assailants, his long black hair falling into his face as he steadied both her and himself. Sirius grinned through his tatty locks.

Lily glared at him, shrugging his steadying grip from his shoulders. " _You_ watch it, Black. What ever happened to the rule _no running in the Entrance Hall_?"

She had expected a quip in return, or maybe a sarcastic pick up line, but instead Sirius wasn't paying attention to her at all. Instead, he and his comrade - Peter - were looking over their shoulders in nervous anticipation. It only took a few seconds for Lily to realize what they were waiting for as a deafening bang rang out in the foyer.

Sirius and Peter both ducked at the sound, the former let out a gleeful cackle. From the direction of the bang, an angered voice called the boys' names - Filch - followed by a half dozen threats of discipline.

"What have you _done_?" Lily asked in bewilderment as blue smoke began to billow into the foyer. The boys didn't answer her question as Filch had already begun his determined march towards them.

Peter shook his head and started away. "No time to explain, sorry!"

"Also, we don't want to be held accountable for when you try and deduct points!" added Sirius, clapping her quickly on the shoulder and following his friend. He had not yet left before giving her a quick wink and a farewell, "see you in Defense, Red!"

Lily scowled after them for a moment, before her gaze was occupied by the rather amusing - though she wouldn't admit that aloud - scene that was Filch scuttling after them in outrage. She recovered, smoothing down her uniform from her brief disruption, and began towards the Great Hall again.

Little did she know that would be the first of three morning walks interrupted by none other than Sirius Black.

* * *

Despite having studied Boggarts in her third year, the appearance of them never failed to give Lily the creeps. Maybe it was one of the rare things she would never get used to, but each time the subject of Boggarts were brought up in class, she balked a little.

"I bloody _hate_ Boggarts," she muttered as Professor Selwyn walked around the class handing out pamphlets. Ambria, who was idly doodling in her little red notebook, looked up with a sympathetic smile.

"At least your Boggart isn't embarrassing."

"That doesn't really make me feel better."

Ambria shrugged. "I'm just saying, it could be worse than a swarm of wasps."

At that, Lily shuddered and gently guided the subject elsewhere. It was lucky for her that no Boggarts would actually be present in the classroom that morning, but she couldn't help but feel slightly resentful that they would be in the near future.

She had been talking with Ambria for a little while when the entire classroom came to a halt at the sound of the slamming classroom door. Lily looked up, jolted slightly by the noise, to watch an entirely aggravated James storm across to his desk.

Just like that, it was as if a dark cloud had settled atop of all of them.

Something Lily had noticed in her first five years at Hogwarts was that there were two types of people. The first were lucky enough to experience feelings entirely within themselves and did not have the inconvenient talent of influencing the room with their own bad mood. The second were not as fortunate.

James Potter fell into the latter.

The room, previously filled with the pleasant lull of chatting, was now awkwardly silent and almost half of the students within it focused on James. Animosity permeated the air from his very presence.

"Mr. Potter, I will ask that you do _not_ slam my door the next time you arrive in my classroom," said Professor Selwyn, her dark eyes narrowed on him and her voice stern.

With a mirthless smile and a shrug, he replied, "Gotcha, Professor." He had slumped into the empty seat beside Marlene, and was angrily searching through his book bag. Professor Selwyn continued her rounds, stopping on occasion to answer a question or correct a sentence, but the focus of the class was almost entirely distracted now.

"What's wrong?" Marlene asked, as James continued to violently assault the innocent contents of his bag. He huffed as a response, to which she rolled her eyes. "Helpful."

"I'm not looking for your sympathy," he snapped, finding his quill and dropping his bag to the floor with a thud.

"You're not going to get it if you keep being a prat." James scowled at her but remained silent. She pressed on. "Seriously, you're killing the entire room. What's happened?"

"I think it's pretty clear I don't want to talk about it."

"I think it's also pretty clear that you don't deal well with bottling up your feelings."

"I'm _not_ bottling."

"You're _not_ letting it out either."

When he didn't respond, now training his look stubbornly on the parchment in front of him, Marlene said, "Well, whatever it is, it was clearly important enough to skip two full classes this morning."

He shrugged. "Not as if Divination really counts, or Charms."

With a roll of her eyes, she countered, "Yeah, come tell me that when you're failing your exams."

Marlene left it at that, no longer bothered with trying to improve his mood and letting it affect her own. She grumbled to herself, turning back to her Quidditch magazine. She, however, was not the only one paying attention to James.

"Aw, poor Potter," came a jeering voice, riddled with rancour, from behind the pair, "having a bad day, are we?"

Neither Marlene or James turned to look at Slytherin Barton Rowle, but both visibly tensed at his snide comment. Barton Rowle was the sort of boy that someone might call 'burlish', with dark brown hair and dull grey eyes. His shoulders were inexplicably wide and stocky and he met James' height at just over six foot. If a cartoonist was to draw a typical school bully, an image of Rowle might have been what was conjured to the page.

When James attempted to ignore his jab, it only caused Rowle - and his Defense Against the Dark Arts partner - to laugh coolly.

"Must be your time of the month, eh, Potter?" continued the Slytherin, now leaning on his desk confidently. "Or maybe one of your boyfriend's forgot to kiss you good morning?"

James fist was clenched on his thigh, but he feigned a derisive sigh. "Do yourself a favour, Rowle, and shut up."

"Or what?" James glanced over his shoulder to see his smirk grow slowly.

He narrowed his hazel eyes at the Slytherin. "I'm really _not_ in the mood for your pathetic attempts at what you probably think is witty banter."

"Not in the mood?" Rowle drawled. "Then it really must be your time of the month." His rather stick-like companion began to laugh almost uncontrollably at this, causing Rowle's smirk to grow even wider in affirmation.

"James, don't…" Marlene warned, her blue eyes trained on his clenched fist that was no longer on his lap, but instead on the end of his wand. He kept his hand by his side, out of sight from Professor Selwyn, but it was dangerous all the same.

James ignored her and kept his glare on Rowle. He tipped his head towards Rowle's friend (who he didn't care to remember his name, but would come to find was _Kevin Muntz_ ) and said: "Does it pay well?"

Both Slytherin's blinked at him confusedly, and James began to smile (completely without mirth) in return. "What?" Rowle's friend asked, rather dumbly.

"Being Rowle's lemming." The statement - or, _accusation_ \- was for the second Slytherin's benefit, but it was Barton that reacted first. His face flushed a violent shade of red and a single vein began to pulse in his jaw.

"I'm not his lemming," Muntz said, while Rowle sneered rather impulsively, "As opposed to _your_ friends? A sickly freak, a blood traitor, and a pudge? With friends like that, I guess you have to be the _delicate ponce_ to fit in."

"Rather a delicate ponce than afraid of my own daddy," returned James. With that, he found that he had struck a nerve and what had previously been a deep crimson in Rowle's cheeks rushed into a darkened purple.

"As if you know anything about my family," he spat, and all of the previous spiteful amusement from his voice had vanished. "As if you know _anything_ about what it's really like. Your mother and father are practically _decrepid_ \- I mean, give me a break, Potter - we're all just waiting for them to kick it already."

Nobody was sure whether or not Barton Rowle knew that his request was going to be answered quite so literally, or that whether he had predicted his short tirade would illicit such a response. However, on that particular morning, James Potter was experiencing a lower tolerance than usual and had decided to leave all reservations at the door.

Simultaneously, the cracking of Rowle's nose, the swish of James' wand and the aggravated cry of the former filled the room. The students around them had been relatively unaware of their earlier conversation but had now stopped all of their school work to spectate. Cursing loudly and profusely, Rowle clutched at his now broken nose, intermittently glaring through the gaps in his fingers. Muntz sort of gaped helplessly; like James had suspected, the boy wasn't much use further than his incessant laughter on cue.

"I would have thought you'd have known better than to insult someone with a quicker draw," James mused, tucking his wand casually back into his robe pocket. "I would think that was _surely_ something Papa Rowle would have taught you."

" _Fuck_ you, Potter!" Rowle hissed, a small trail of blood beginning to seep down past his lip.

James responded to this with a shrug. Professor Selwyn, however, had a significant amount more to say on the matter at hand. She came storming across the classroom, her slim features pulled into a look of outrage.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Rowle!" she all but shrieked, her dark blue robes flapping as she walked. By now the entire classroom had abandoned whatever remaining pretence, and watched as their professor swooped in on the action.

The blood escaping from Rowle's nose had now progressed into a full on stream and was now dripping all over the parchment in front of him. From beside him, Muntz made a quick, albeit disgusted, attempt to save their work. Rowle, on the other hand, was much more focussed on hurling further threats towards his attacker.

"You're a bloody twat, Potter," he growled, now both hands cupped to catch his blood. "And you'll fucking _rue_ the day you did this to me. I'll wipe that stupid, smug smirk off your foul excuse for a face!"

James opened his mouth to make a further retort, but Selwyn's hand shot up sharply to silence him. She towered over his desk, her raged glare flicking between the both of them.

"How _dare_ you partake in violence in my classroom! I will _not_ tolerate the unauthorized use of a wand in my presence, especially at the expense of another student! And that _language!_ "

"In all fairness, Professor, I could have done a lot worse than break his nose…"

" _Be quiet_ ," Selwyn growled. "This behaviour is inexcusable! To disrupt my classroom in such a barbaric and archaic manner is unacceptable. Not only have you disrespected each other, you've also disrespected your classmates and that _will not do_!"

Rowle gave Selwyn an anguished look, and cried, "Professor, my _nose_ …"

Selwyn, a former auror and not one to mess around, drew her wand in a flash and yet another loud crack from the general direction of Rowle's face filled the room. He let out another pained cry, cupping his nose and hunched over his desk.

"Your nose is fine, Rowle," she replied coolly, tucking her wand into her pocket. The redness in her face had decreased significantly, but her eyes still flashed in anger.

"In fact, it's even better than before," remarked James sardonically. He leaned casually over the back of his chair for a better inspection. "Looks much less like a giant wart had just sprouted in between your eyes."

Rowle's fists clenched on the table, now covered in dried blood, and he glared fiercely at James. "I'll -"

" _Enough!_ " Selwyn's voice now echoed through the silent and thoroughly engrossed classroom. "I have had enough. _Out!_ Get out of my class!"

Having barely unpacked his supplies upon his arrival, James simply retrieved his book bag from the floor and got to his feet. From beside him, Marlene got to her feet as well.

"I'll come with you," she said.

"You absolutely will _not_ , Miss McKinnon. Sit down immediately."

Under Selwyn's scowl, Marlene did as she was told and dropped back into her seat. She shot an apologetic look in James' direction but he had already begun towards the door.

"I expect you to go _straight_ to the Headmaster's office," said Selwyn, following James' path with Rowle in tow. "Don't think this is going to be forgotten about, I will be deducting _twenty_ points from both of your houses and you will both receive lengthy detention sentences!"

At this point, nothing that any of the staff could do would faze James. He was in a mood, and once he was in a mood it took a small list of very specific things to get him out of it. Extreme punishment was not one of them.

He reached the door first, throwing it open with force, and disappeared out into the corridor. Selwyn, who had now reached the door with Rowle, glared after the pair of them as James strode and Rowle skulked their way to Dumbledore's office.

"The next time you are in my classroom, I expect a significant difference in your decorum!" she called after them. Neither boy acknowledged her, to which she stepped back into the classroom, closing the door firmly behind her.

The populace of the class looked at her expectantly, their eyes wide with the lingering excitement of the affair. Even Lily, who was normally so dutifully disconnected from Potter's unnecessary anarchy, stared at Selwyn and waited for her reaction with baited breath.

With a quick gesture to Rowle's now empty chair, Selwyn snapped at Muntz, "Get this cleaned up." When he fumbled, as he was wont to do under pressure, her voice added sharply: " _Now_ , please."

The eyes of the classroom followed her as she strode to the front of the room, composing herself with each step. Muntz's attempts at a simple _Scourgify_ were lengthy and noisy, but Selwyn ignored him as she addressed the class once more.

"Right, following that, let's all turn to page 78 of our textbooks and get on with today's work, shall we?"

* * *

How on Merlin's earth the task of delivering Potter's homework had fallen on Lily, she had no clue. It probably had to do with the fact Potter's _actual_ friends all conveniently had other important tasks that required their attention or didn't bother showing up at all (namely Sirius). However, it was a rule of Lily's to strive to do whatever task a professor asked of her, so when Selwyn dropped a parchment of instructions on her desk with Potter's name on it, she could hardly decline.

But now she wished she did.

She arrived with surprisingly good timing. She had just reached the top of the staircase when she saw James come storming out of Dumbledore's office. He had a furious look on his face and, without noticing she was there, cupped it in his hands and let out an audible groan.

All of a sudden, and for what may have been a first time, Lily experienced a feeling of sympathy towards him. It was as unusual as it was uncomfortable, and she felt like standing there, witnessing this rare glimpse of non-apathy, she was being awfully invasive.

His hands dropped from his face and before she could make herself known, he noticed her. Almost immediately, he straightened, ran a hand through his unkempt hair, and returned to what seemed to be his normal, uncaring self.

"Evans," he said, nodding casually. He eyed her for a second. "Followed me to tell me off, have you?"

As indignant as that made her feel, Lily shook her head and replied in a neutral voice. "Of course not. It's not my job to babysit you."

A single one of James' eyebrows arched at her response. "Oh, isn't it? See, for the past five years, you could have fooled me." He kicked at something invisible on the floor

Rolling her eyes, Lily said, "Well, my attempts clearly weren't working so why would I keep bothering? As long as you're not bullying _my_ friends, you're free to whatever you want."

"Hm," was what James replied.

The pair looked at each other for a moment before Lily remembered her entire point of being there. She rummaged through her book bag for a moment before producing the neatly folded instructions Selwyn had entrusted her to deliver.

"I'm here to bring you your homework," she explained, walking towards him, parchment outstretched. "No one else was around to do it, so…"

"So being the teacher's pet that you are, you jumped at the chance," James finished for her, giving her a mirthless smile. "Oh, and of course, you find it very hard to mind your own business."

"It's pretty hard to ignore the fact that you're in a godawful mood when you take your business out on Barton Rowle's face."

James took the parchment. "You heard what he said. 'Git deserved it."

"I don't really agree that _anyone_ deserves having their nose broken," said Lily. "No matter what they say."

"So you think that bigots like him have the right to walk around throwing slurs left, right and centre?"

" _Of course not_." For the most part, Lily was offended that he would accuse _her,_ out of all people, of excusing that. "But what I'm trying to say is that you really shouldn't be fighting fire with fire."

"I didn't. I fought Rowle's nose with my wand."

"That's besides the point. Also, if I recall, he didn't even _say_ anything bigoted. He just insulted you, and the last time I checked pureblood young wizards were _not_ being oppressed."

"That doesn't mean I can't be affected by it." He shook his head and snorted. "You're bloody naive sometimes, Evans. I can't believe you actually think I'm still at fault here."

" _Both_ of you were at fault."

James grew incredulous. "Except one of us is a potentially murderous follower of a megalomaniac purist, and one of them was _me_! So I would appreciate it if you didn't slot me in the same box as him."

It was Lily's turn to snort. "What evidence do you have of that? Other than the fact he's in Slytherin, of course."

"Do I need anything else?"

In that moment, Lily unexpectedly heard Snape's voice in the back of her mind, reminding her of how narrow minds live on both sides of the fence.

"Distrusting someone of being a bigot just because they're in Slytherin is just as bad as distrusting all muggleborns."

It was almost as if James had a revelation; he shook his head and laughed humourlessly. "Oh, _of course_."

"Of course, what?"

"Of course you'd defend Slytherin house. You don't want me to lump them all together because _you_ don't want to admit that your precious Snape could do any wrong."

Heat rose in Lily's cheeks, but she stared back defiantly. "That isn't what this is about and you know that. This is about _you_ , flying off the handle and making reckless decisions as per usual!"

"I thought it was pretty restrained, actually," James returned. "It took me at least a minute or two before I did anything to Rowle. That might be a record."

She looked at him bitterly. "The fact that you can even keep a record speaks volumes."

"Would you quit trying to villainize me?" The collected, apathetic James that Lily was used to had now been replaced by an angry James much similar to before. "I am not the bad guy here! In fact, I thought you of all people would _appreciate_ that Rowle got what was coming to him!"

"Oh, yes, you're right!" Upon seeing his anger, Lily reacted with her own. "Wonderful James Potter, how ever could I thank you enough? We pitiful, poor muggleborns don't have a backbone of our own so we need you rich and powerful purebloods to do all the sticking up for us!"

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"Then don't stand there and expect me to thank you for an act of violence I never asked for!" Lily cried angrily. "It's so condescending and so typical of you, Potter, to expect that everyone wants you to save the day. Well, they _don't_."

James flushed now, and said, "I'm not trying to save the day!"

Lily ignored him. "You know, this might be some game to you where you can be the hero but this is my _life_. I don't get to go back to the big house with my pureblood family and my house elves and my money at the end of the day. I don't get to choose not to be affected by it, so don't you dare stand there and make _me_ the bad person when this war will barely touch you!"

She was breathing hard by now, and in the back of the mind she registered that this argument had escalated rather quickly and unexpectedly. Still, she couldn't shake the anger pounding through her veins and the painful heaving of her lungs.

James was looking at her hard and silent. His cheeks were slightly red but all the heated anger from his expression had vanished. Instead, it had been replaced by something cold and bitter.

He began to walk towards her with such force and so quickly so Lily was momentarily frightened that he might knock her right over. But, he didn't. Instead, he stopped a few inches from her, his voice was low and harsh as he looked at her.

"Get the hell over yourself, Evans," he said, his voice scarily still. "Just because I'm not the one being persecuted doesn't mean this doesn't affect me. Witches and wizards are dying _-_ not just muggleborns, but purebloods and halfbloods - and their families and friends have been _ruined_."

Lily blinked at him and caught her breath. A response was stuck in the back of her throat but she couldn't bring herself to choke it out. Because, for a moment there, James looked like he might cry.

"Don't you tell me it doesn't affect me," he continued, and Lily almost flinched. "You have no bloody idea."

With that, James then turned harshly away from her and jogged hurriedly down the stairs. His parchment was now crumpled in his left hand, his fingers crushing the inked words. Lily didn't turn to look after him. Instead, she stood in total shock - and somewhat horror - for a few moments while she digested their argument in full.

And as the scene replayed over in her mind, Lily found herself wanting very much to cry.

* * *

The rest of Lily's day passed by with no further incidents, but the unsettling feeling of regret weighed on her chest. She hadn't seen Potter in any of her other classes, and she realised she had not discussed with him the severity of his punishment from Dumbledore. Not that it mattered to her, anyway. She couldn't care less about how many detentions he ended up with. She did, however, find herself caring about the way they had left things.

This wasn't to say that Lily considered Potter her friend in any shape or form. It simply was a human response to seeing someone familiar (after all, after living together for five years, they were at least _familiar_ ) in an emotional state she wasn't used to. That afternoon's version of Potter was unlike any Potter she had experienced before. That did not sit well with her.

Dinner was the same; James was absent, but his counterparts were not. Remus, Sirius and Peter sat together with Lily's friends as per usual. Lily had been late that evening, and it just so happened that they five of them had begun to the discuss the day's events as she joined the table.

"I'm just saying," Marlene went on, swinging her fork around animatedly. Lily narrowly missed this as she climbed into the bench to sit. "He was in a _really_ foul mood. Are you sure you don't know anything about it?"

"Rowle was being a prick. James reacted. What else is there to know?" Sirius replied as he shovelled a second helping of mashed potatoes onto his plate. "Merlin knows if I'd been there, it would have been twice as messy."

Remus shook his head. "It's a good thing you weren't. We're twenty points down and I don't even want to ask how many detentions Prongs has under his belt now."

"But his bad mood started _before_ Rowle even spoke up!" exclaimed Marlene. "The moment he walked into class, it was like he'd brought an entire team of Dementors with him. Sucked the life right out of the room."

"He was a bit of a dark cloud," Ambria agreed thoughtfully.

Marlene nodded firmly. "Exactly!" She turned to Lily, pleased to have a third person to back her story. "Lily, tell them how _awful_ he was being."

Now, Lily had yet to tell any of her friends of her and James' encounter outside of the Headmaster's office, and judging by the reactions of James' friends, so had he. So, she shrugged, and simply replied: "I guess he was in a bit off."

"Yeah, off like a carton of milk left in the sun for a week!" When her companions didn't react, Marlene sighed and said, "Fine. Where has he been all afternoon?"

Peter shrugged. "'Dunno. I haven't seen him. We only have Muggle Studies together and he usually skives that anyway."

"'S probably about, doing James sort of stuff," Sirius contributed, his mouth full of food. "He likes to wander off and all that."

Out of the three of them, only Remus seemed concerned. "Somebody probably ticked him off at breakfast and Rowle just made it worse." When Marlene went to speak again, he added, "Sometimes it's just better to let James blow off some steam by himself."

Unsatisfied, Marlene slumped back into her bench with a huff. "Fine. You know him better than I do."

"Exactly. Don't worry about it, he'll be back to normal by the morning."

When Marlene murmured in a manner that indicated she didn't quite believe Sirius, Lily couldn't help but agree with the sentiment. There was something about the way he was earlier in their argument that made her suspect this would take more than a decent night's sleep to get past.

The six of them continued chatting away, after a quick subject change from Remus, and eating their dinners. Once they were all full and satisfied, they withdrew from the table and began to make their way out to the Entrance Hall.

Ambria walked with her arm linked with Lily's while Marlene walked slightly behind with the boys. The Great Hall was all but empty now with the dinner rush having returned to their respective Common Rooms.

"It's such a shame about that attack in France," said Ambria as they began to ascend the staircase. "Reading all of the obituaries in the _Prophet_ this morning was heartbreaking."

Lily nodded. "Yeah, it's truly awful." She then remembered James' earlier point: a lot of those men and women had been pure and halfblood, almost more than there had been muggleborns killed. She felt a jab of guilt in her stomach; there was a possibility that she may have been a little harsh on him.

"And to think that's where Marlene and I holidayed this summer," the blue-haired girl continued. "Imagine if he had happened while we were there!"

"James too," Marlene piped up from a short distance behind. "I can't imagine how lucky we are to have avoided that, only a few weeks after we left."

"I hope nobody we met was involved," Ambria said, her mouth pulling sadly at the corners.

Lily was not sure if Marlene had come to a conclusion on her own, or whether or not Ambria's last comment sparked something in her, but her blonde friend came to complete stop on the staircase.

"Oi!" Sirius yelped after knocking into her suddenly. "What are you doing, you numpty?"

"Does anyone have a copy of this morning's _Prophet_?" she asked urgently, her blonde hair bobbing as she whipped her head around. "Quickly, does anyone have one?"

Lily dug into her book bag hurriedly and produced the required paper. "Here, I've got one."

Marlene all but ripped the newspaper from Lily's hands, and her companions circled her, both confused and in anticipation. Her hands quickly flicked through the pages - it did not take long, the list of the dead was early in the edition, following the news article - and her blue eyes scanned the list of names furiously.

She was about halfway down the list when she let out a jagged gasp. "Oh, _no_."

"What?" chorused the boys, and Sirius leant further over the newspaper. "What is it?" he said.

Marlene looked up at them. "James had a friend in France… a girl he spent some time with. They went on a few sort of dates, and we bumped into them."

"Emilé," said Ambria, and she suddenly looked concerned. She took the paper from Marlene and scanned it herself. After a moment, she let out a breath. "There. Emilé Jacquinot."

It took a moment for the group to process this new information, but within moments a number of things occurred. First, the boys began talking over one another, frantically discussing the places where James might have gone. Their words blurred together, but they seemed to understand one another regardless, and an agreement was made in seconds.

"We've got to go find him," Remus finally said. Peter and Sirius began hurriedly up the stairs, and Remus said to the girls, "We'll see you later."

Marlene nodded. "Good idea. See you in the Common Room."

Remus returned her nod before following his friends up the stairs. Once he had gone, both Marlene and Ambria let out a sigh.

"This is so awful," said Ambria, rubbing her forehead. "So, so awful."

Amongst this, Lily's head was reeling. While the boys had made their decision to track James down, she was dealing with the memories of their earlier fight. What was previously a small doubt that she had treated him too harshly had now grown into a feeling of utter regret. She had told him he wasn't affected, she had told him he wouldn't understand. How could she have been so obtuse? Granted, it wasn't common knowledge that James had had a relationship with someone involved, but he had been right. She had been naive.

She had stood there and yelled at him and accused him of playing the hero, unknowingly adding salt to a deep, open emotional wound. She had said the war wouldn't touch him, yet he had experienced more loss at the hand of the war than she ever had.

She felt sick.

"I…" she stammered, and reached for the banister to steady herself for a moment.

Marlene looked at her, concerned. "Are you okay, Lily?"

Lily shook her head. "No. No, I don't think I am."

"What's the matter?"

 _She had to apologise._

Lily looked up at Marlene, her lips pressed together tightly. "I think I made a really huge mistake."


End file.
